Just me thinking

Ran again last night- well, shuffled down to the road again. It was earlier, lighter (so I took Muddy instead of Sybil and the torch), and hurt more, but still felt good. And again I got to come home to a clean fresh little family, Richard and Jack sitting on the rug in front of our newly decorated Christmas tree, decorating butcher’s paper to wrap presents.

Jack is eagerly racing toward boyhood- nearly crawling, nearly toddling, feeding himself, looking outside our safe little partnership for entertainment. In one heartbeat I’m right behind him, cheering him on, helping him to his unsteady feet and urging him forward on his hands and knees. But in the next, I’m silently pleading with him not to rush, to stay a baby for a while longer, to let me carry him and protect him from all the hurt out there. Maybe its largely selfish- I want to keep him mine, to tuck those secret smiles and the warm nuzzlebreath away for just me. And I feel like I haven’t had time to savour him, I’m just marvelling at his first smile or his first clumsy grasp and suddenly he’s waving and talking and driving away in a P-plated ute… He’s like a beautiful sunset, my son. When I stop to look the sheer wonder of him takes my breath away and I have to show him to others, to try to capture him on film or in words- but in the moment it takes me to lift my camera, to gather more spectators, to put pen to paper, he changes, his colours shift and his light turns and he’s different- still marvellous, breathtaking, but different, and I know I’ll never see that earlier moment again.

I want to go back and hold him on my chest for the first time, concentrate on the delicate shape of his fingers and nose, watch him take his first breath and look into my eyes for the first time, and really capture him as he was, in some way that lets me feel it again and again. But all I can do is try to stop and taste each new coming moment for myself, know how precious it is, save it for now, and hope it lasts for ever in my heart.