One child
an ‘only child’ who briefly wanted siblings,
until ten of his cousins came over one day and he asked me to tell everyone he had a headache and retired to his room like an old man; he was four …
a child who, at two years of age, would rather change his own nappy than go to the toilet,
who had a dummy until he was three and would hide it if G’ma came over (he and I had a place to put it out of sight – especially the pink one!)
A child who was only an infant when his father first got sick, but who thought, when the moon was full, that “Daddy fixeded it!”
a child whose depth of feeling, of wisdom, of kindness, shines almost too brightly for me,
a child who has tested me with his worries and wonderings.
Today we came back from my best friend’s party in Perth,
and my child and I sang along with his favourite music booming through the car,
this child/man telling me when I was off key (what crap, I am never off key!)
ringing Husband in between riffs,
suddenly realizing we would be home in time for him to go to another party, and me saying yes, and his elation.
One child,
now 18 and showing wildchild signs, but all good.
He is a loud, laughing, boisterous replica of his father the way Husband used to be –
he is the life of the party,
he swears too much but only in a hip-happy way and he has forgotten our rule that swearing was only for inside the car,
but I don’t care because I love his joy.
One child,
who has seen more than enough sadness,
who has been my worst foe and my best friend,
my heart,
my mother’s day present every second,
my breath,
the best thing Husband and I ever did….
so this clumsy collection of words is for him, this wonderful person who carries the burden of my love for him on very strong shoulders,
one child….
Son.
jmgoyder 