A week of lasts

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A week of lasts

🏡

This week has been a stark reminder that life is moving forward quickly.

It has been a week overwhelmed with lasts:

Last day of junior school
Last day of senior school
Last day of Uni exams
Last day of their degree
Last day at home with mum before school begins
Last day with heartfelt friends, who will be moving into their unshared tomorrow.

Sharing the Journey of raising children, makes us the same, in so many stupendously, ridiculous ways. The alien within us gradually replaces the person we used to be, creating an imposter hardly recognisable to ourselves, as we are driven deeper and deeper into the daily grind.

We drag ourselves through the long, activity packed days with barely seconds to breathe. We exist, day after day, in a fog of total oblivion, grasping onto anything and everything just to get through, not stopping to observe the rapid changes in our offspring, until it happens.

“Would you like a colouring book darling?”

“OMG mum, I’m in high school, no thank you”

“You are? …..oh. So you are”

They’re in Prep school and then they’re year nine the week after, yet sometimes it feels like it’s been an eternity-how does that work?

Our oblivious little heads remain firmly down as we engage in the necessities for survival-cooking, cleaning, disciplining, a taxi driver, an ATM, a sounding board, moving, running, planning, rushing…

Colouring books and dancing skirts one week, squeaky voices, pimples and smart phones the next. Shoes two sizes too small because the shops are closed after 6pm and dinner still hasn’t made it out of the can. Sport, study, homework, hours in front of the mirror, attitude.

Sound familiar?

…and then it’s gone.

Replaced with happy snaps on social media, leaving us to cry over their achievements and proud moments.

Leaving us blurry eyed and bursting with love as we soak up their graduation frocks, smart man suits and happy, youthful smiles-not a colouring book in sight.

Leaving us silently extending invisible hands in their direction, pleading;

“Come back, come back, to me”

But we let them go,

To live the life they were meant to live.

To explore the world, and find themselves as people.

Our grip on them lessening as their independence flourishes and their wings unfold.

And so I am shocked as the reality hits-

‘This will be me soon’

Already, I can feel my fingers growing, in an unconscious attempt to pull my boys back to me, but as certain as is the rising of the sun, I will hug them with a warm heart and send them on their way-With a packed lunch, a colouring book for amusement, and an intent for them to discover all the firsts in life, as I did.

How sublime and true is this unrealised irony?

For if it wasn’t for  all the lasts, there would never be…the elation, of a magnificent first.

💙Heart Story-N.A.Martin


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