Dear Son -Part I

Dear Son – Part I

I see you today standing upright and strong, with a stance of maturity and quiet sobriety on this cool, sunny Sunday. Blue skies deceiving us, tempting us to very easily make the wrong choice of clothing after a long, hot summer, scarce of rainfall that is so foreign to these isles.

Taking care to be swift, before you and your sweet girl drive away in your silver car that you say is parked precariously down the end of our alleyway…the car that your Dad’s Mum donated so generously after your Grandfathers passing, she now has no need for two cars. How proud your Dadcu will be in helping you with this gift of freedom and independence, and how relieved he will be that you didn’t get the new SUV with the faster engine and pristine interior.

I am becoming accustomed to your new routine of finding your adult feet, exploring your exciting liberty with a newfound confidence. You come home and, almost as soon as you hug me hello, you are back to warm my shoulders with a see-you-later squeeze. I will take all the love, my Son, no matter how fleeting, how fortunate I am for your split-second demonstration of unconditional care.

No longer scared of every changing scene in your world, as was the tiny boy I soon learned as a young Mum that you would be ok leaving the house as long as we counted down the event. Memories of the shiny, red rocket you would hang on to with both infant hands and soar through the living room for no less than a year, it looked huge against your little form. You would make whooshing and swooshing sounds to replicate its great engines…10…9…8…shoes on….7…6…5…coat on…4…3…do you need the toilet?…2…1…lift off! …and out we go.

No more holding you back, my Son, you are exhilarated by every experience that you are yet to comprehend. Do you feel invincible like your superhero from when you were five years old? Spider-Man was brave, he could climb great heights and whatever he reached for he got.