My son

My son has milky white skin and the blue/grey eyes of his father.

They have the same smile, the one that beams and their entire face lights up. Their eyes almost sing at you. It’s the most spontaneous, most beautiful gift to relish and seems only a trait the two of them share.

When i accidentally knock my son, or pull to tight doing his seat belt up, if i slightly hurt him, he cries and I beg for forgiveness feeling no different than if I’ve just poured hot water over him. But he immediately says, ‘it’s ok.’ Keen to reassure me that’s he fine. Always thinking of others people’s feelings.

When he cuddles me, or his father, his arms wrap around tight, like a child caught in an ocean, clinging onto a life raft with deep felt appreciation and the greatest love.

I love the way he such a little character. He loves cars, he loves his toy cars with the same adoration as the girls and their electronics.

When he rides his bike. Which he tried so hard through bouts of frustration to master, his smile is wide, his eyes sparkle, he takes in the movements he’s making the speed he can get. He is free like a bird and lost in his little world where there are cars and lights and racing police cars around him. He has the vivid imagination and most innocent of joys.

When he sleeps he suckles on his t-shirt, even asleep in his car seat that t-shirt is in his mouth. He looks so blissful, so peaceful. At night when I let him sleep in our bed, he lies with his head touching mine, or let’s me cuddle him all night.

He’s obsessiveness with lining cars up in an orderly fashion is endearing and fascinating to watch. He has the same concentration as his father. A quiet determination to get things done in his time, as he wants.

He always feels warm to the touch, always soft, always ready to play or cuddle or just hang out. When I walk into a room and see him my heart bursts with a love that is powerful and yet terrifying. I knew the moment he was born I would walk through fire for him, I’d lie down my life for him. I never want to see him suffer. I wish I could keep him hidden from the pains of life, the complexity and confusion that he’ll learn to grapple with as he gets older. I want to protect him with a velocity that scares me.

He is the most loved little boy and I can’t tell him enough. I want him to know how loved and protected he is. From those beautiful long lashes to his soft wriggly toes.

He is my entire world. He is the very definition of perfect, and I’m amazed simply that he is mine. If I hadn’t have kept him with me from the moment of birth, I might have thought he was swapped. How could something so beautiful have been created and born from the twisted ugliness and bitterness that is my soul?

My son. My boy. A warm bath, a roaring fire on a winter night, a hot chocolate on a long day, a clear ocean in paradise – you are my purpose. My gift to the world and I know you are so pure and so loving that you will bring the people you meet such peace, such reassurance that angels exist. 

I’m so proud of you, I love you with every piece of my heart and you have already changed my world for the better.



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