Wednesday, 18 April 2007
My son came to visit. Quite unexpectedly as a surprise for my birthday. I got out of the shower one evening and ambled into my study and there on the couch he was. I can't explain the joy in words, you'd have to have seen my face. There can be nothing better in life than to unexpectedly see someone you love with all your being. I don't see him often as he lives the other side of Britain. I had thought that this would be the first birthday in twenty-two years without his presence. But no! he came and so I didn't have to miss him.
He stayed for just over a week, and it was a lovely week. We chatted and laughed; he brought me all sorts of new music which he installed onto my little machine; he sorted out my computer; he ate, with gusto, everything I cooked; he got me a Nietzsche finger puppet/fridge-magnet for my birthday; we drank wine; we watched films; he encouraged me to buy a brown leather bag - not the unfathomably expensive one of a few posts back - and a little cube music player for when I run (the other one hangs up with movement). I scratched his head and he was my little boy again, for a while.
And now he's gone again, and I had to fight back the tears as he boarded the train. I miss him more everytime he comes back and goes away again. I wish he could live here forever. But of course he has to go off into the world to make his own way. That's sad, but also marvellous: he's grown into an adult human, surely what I was striving for all those years trying to get him to eat brown bread and vegetables.