A decade since that Spring sunrise when I first held you. The day before was spent watching a bushfire on the hill. Its flames consuming acacias in a calm, confronting way. I sat with Pat and felt pangs in my belly what felt like period pain amidst the drama of a helicopter taking water from the house dam to wet the fire.
By the wee hours you were on your way. And I was calm and there with you as you felt your peaceful way into the world. We were connected and still one entity, until at 4.48am you burst forth. With black coal eyes, you watched the world with an intense stare, observant and wise.
Now you are 10. Your hair falls to your shoulders, curled like an 19th Century aristocrat. You’re growing it out, finding your own way. You said to me this morning, you love being independent and this next decade will see more of that for you. Your curiosity channelled into nerf guns, endless modification ideas filling your notebooks.
Stand tall, gaze long, my beloved son. Put your roots deep into the Mother who will hold you up. You dream of being an assassin who ‘works in the shadows to serve the light’. You asked me earnestly, ‘Will you still love me if I choose to be one?’ Yes, whatever path you travel, I will always love you.
Go forth and create, my dear son. A life of laughter and care, love and intensity awaits you.
Eons of love, mum