Growing up

I can see the day my boy is so grown up that he gets on a plane and finds adventures of his own.

I can see the day he goes to his lover’s family for Christmas and when he rings me, I can hear them all in the background because it’s so quiet at my house.

I can see the day he finishes school and celebrates with his mates and not with me. I can see the weekend he doesn’t want me on the sidelines and the day he won’t kiss me goodbye.

If I squint, I can see him with children of his own.

But I just can’t see the day I’m gonna let him walk across to the bakery on his own.

0 thoughts on “Growing up”

  1. Oh I’m sure it won’t be *that* quiet at your house! If it is, get a couple of cats to liven things up.

    (When I read that, I had a mental picture of your son — not that I know him — at an Xmas gathering with SJP. Must be thinking of _The Family Stone_, I guess, which I’ve never seen.)

  2. What a beautiful comment, Helen. Does he stand with his hands in his pockets? That does it to me every time.

    Elsewhere, we are very quiet the adults of this house.

  3. He’s not much of a hands in pockets stander, which proves it’s not genetic, as I was constantly told off for it at school. (In Adelaide– your post about soursobs gave me a wave of nostalgia, also Adelaide airport. Adelaidians rawk.)

  4. Do you not have soursobs? But what do you do in the garden for colour?

    I must also apologise for my rude akismet which keeps sending your comments to spam. Apparently, it is learning not to do so, but it seems to be a slow learner.

  5. We have it, but it’s called Oxalis.

    And the kids don’t seem to find the stalks as delicious as we did. Good thing really since herbicide seems to be the garden fashion du jour.

    And delis are milk bars here and bathers are togs and there is no Amscol to be had. It has taken me ages to assimilate.

    I’ve changed my munged email address to leave out the word “s**m”, see if that helps.

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