From all that "I couldn't possibly go to sleep now, we're in a hotel and my mummy's just beside me" tired.
From all that "What is this ten pin bowling lark, and let's ride roller coasters and half term shenanigans and sightseeing on great ships with stories of great warriors" tired.
(There had been mama, hoping against hope that her great warrior was paying close and careful attention. How to shine. How to command. How to lead. How to triumph.)
Ah, but he is no follower! We follow. We all follow. Go son.
Go.
Now today there he lay, pre-sunrise, a similar golden ball of light in waiting, this perfectly imperfect boy (like us all) oblivious to the fact his mother was silent and enamored and treasuring him from the doorway. Oblivious to the fact that she was thinking 'my God, when did he fill that bed? Why is there no space around him?' A glance to the moses basket in the corner, now stuffed with teddies when years prior it had been full of baby and baby's grunting and random cries, "come get me, cuddle me, I need you".
I need you.
That very tiny moses basket now only near his feet. Holding his baby doll when it once held his mama's baby. When did you get so big? Sure, you are larger than life, but when did you get so big?
I blow a kiss and he stirs. As if he feels it land and stroke his cheek, it pushes him to turn over. His hand floats up to rub that cheek, now his forehead, now to scratch that toddler pot belly which just won't go.
Good.
Don't go.
Stay.
You stay. Let's hang out here for a little short while, for I am not finished adoring you. I will never finish adoring you.
Don't go.
(Go. Fly! Go!)
Don't go.
I close the door and go to dress and brush teeth and tie shoes and ready myself for my day. It is now that I'd typically leave for work but that beautiful little boy won't be back in that bed til Saturday night and I just can't go. Not yet. I turn back for one more look. I can't close the door, can't pull away. To hear his breathing is like a symphony, the song of life that brings me life. This boy. This beautiful boy. My pride in having actually made him. What a miracle.
My boy.
This hand on the door holds me still, watching one boy, my boy, life's boy, our boy, stir and snore and scratch and roll and be. Oh the blessing of this child! The love! There has never been such love. I am sure of it. Nevernevernever.
Never.
(And when did you get so big?)
I have been suffering lately behind my eyes, that darkness has seeped into my guts, embalmed my soul, clouded my spirit, rained on my hope. I have been unable to decipher why, but yesterday maybe at long last I knew. I realized that my beloved sweet baby Rukai, my heart, my world, had gone. There came little boy Rukai, with a new attitude, often crabby, feisty, frustrated, annoyed. Where did my sweet boy go?
Where? Out. He went out.
Into the world is where he went. And not that this isn't a good thing, but when he went out I seem to have forgotten to give him the map to find his way home. I forgot to watch him go and I forgot to pack him a lunch and I forgot to wait for him at the door. Because I never thought he'd be going so soon. We had planned to wait another year. We weren't allowed that year.
And so I wasn't entirely paying attention to the fact that there was a huge part of this brave new world which required me. Which will always require me. I forgot how much he needed me, but perhaps how much more I need him. I forgot. And here he's been reminding me and here I've been frustrated and stressed and confused by his behavior because, quite simply: I've not been paying enough attention. The tug marks on my trouser leg, apparent. Chocolate stained fingerprints. Sticky with despair. Mummy? Mummy? Please mummy. Come here mummy. Please.
Mummy.
I need you. Don't go.
We used to always be together. Don't go.
Where have you gone?
Don't go.
And there my world has felt empty but my world has really just been right before me, tugging at my sleeve, pressing my cheek to turn my gaze in his direction. Bringing me the remote and signing 'again mama'. Clasping my hand beneath his arm, walking me to the sofa and signing that I should sit. Sit to watch him dance. To cheer him on. To smile. To laugh. To love.
To not forget.
To mother.
As if life isn't complicated enough here it has tried to cleave us apart.
But I know the glue.
It is called Love. Patience. Respect. Pride. Anticipation. Joy. Light. Tomorrow.
The glue is called Rukai. As it was and as it always will be.
The glue is called Us. As we are and always will be.
Go.
Go.
Go.
Together, we go.
