To those of you who read this after putting your little ones to bed, to those of you who dream, as you drown in everyday parenting, to those of you who cannot remember life before children, I have only one thing to say… it does end, and as you look back you will shake your head in wonder, for those years seem to have lasted but a moment.
I wrote this just days before my son left Ireland to work for a time abroad. I didn’t post it at the time but I’m ready to do so now.
Moments ago I stood beside an eight year old you as you excitedly begged me to buy you a suit like your Dads for you first communion. Today I stood, dwarfed in your shadow as you showed me your new suit. The suit you will wear in your first job, many miles from home.
You leave in four days.
As time ticks by every hour seems to hasten that moment when I must cut the hidden umbilical cord. A connection, invisible to the naked eye, which united us seconds after you were born, as you lay in my arms and took your very first breath.
In my mind I practise that moment when we share our final hug, I breathing you in, desperately trying to save to memory all that you are, while you pull in the opposite direction. Nature naturally separating us, boy to man.
As I do so I hope I can look you in the eye and let you know I am excited and genuinely happy for you. For it is only right that you seize the life we have given you and live it as you wish.
I hope I can be strong and let you know I wish you every good wish in your new adventure, but as you walk away I might just quietly shed a tear for my wee small boy who is all grown up, from a mother who will never forget so many magical moments of mothering.
The magical moments, many of you reading, are living each day.
photo credit: Alain Bachellier via photopin cc
photo credit: JonathanCohen via photopin cc