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I’ve had eighteen years to prepare for this. Eighteen years since you arrived, sticky with blood and goo, swaddled in white, moments away from latching onto my breast. Already latched onto my heart.
I know you’ll return in a few weeks, hair unkempt, likely armed with a batch of washing, though I’d prepared you for that along with a hundred other things you’ll have to face in this life.
‘You’re ready,’ I told you. And you were. After eighteen years, you were equipped to fly the nest. I was the one unprepared. The one not ready to let you go.

6 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 1 year ago

    Love it, Julie! How you’ve written this enable the reader to fill in those 18 years. Lovely.

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 1 year ago

    omg, Julie, this is so poignant and bought back so many lovely and bittersweet memories of when my girls went off to Uni. It's tough to let them go but on the other hand it's so amazing when they come back for a weekend :)

  • avatar

    Julie over 1 year ago

    Thanks, guys!
    Son is doing well and enjoying himself, I'm pleased to say :) And second son is happy because he gets the XBox all to himself!

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 1 year ago

    That’s good to hear Julie. And is their mum coping well too?

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 1 year ago

    I know how second son feels, I now get the tv remote control to myself ;)

  • avatar

    Julie over 1 year ago

    I still miss him, Neville, but I'm no longer bursting into tears every time I pass his favourite yogurts in Sainsbury's!

    Drew, second son will doubtless be well annoyed when eldest returns home in December and they have to share our house's insufficient bandwidth. There will be arguments. Back to situation normal!

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