Posted by: miilee | September 19, 2009

My Boy…

This is a really extraordinary situation… any of the people who know me really will be slightly astonished at what i’m putting down here…..

around an hour ago, I was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. As I read the last few pages, where a grown up, married Harry sees his 11-year-old son off to his first year at school, I was gripped by this sudden really deep desire to be a parent myself…. To have a kid of my own; the need to be there for someone of my own flesh and blood; to guide gently, his footsteps so that they avoid the mistakes that I made; to help him figure out right from wrong; to cushion his fall or sometimes, watch him fall and then explain to him as I bandage his knees and wipe his tears, where was it that he went wrong; to see him meandering and to see realization dawn upon him as he gains back his balance; to support him till he is sure that he can carry himself and then stand back and admire with teary eyes as he takes off on his own two legs; to feel a longing, within few moments of his glorious independence, to have him back on my lap, dependent on me, closer to me; to know that he’s now a big boy who won’t need me anymore, but vowing to myself that I’ll be there lest he needs me again, lest he falls and hurts himself and there is no one to help him with his skinned knee and heart; watch him from the shadows as he struggles with life as it swoops down upon him; feel proud of him as he tackles problems and takes decisions; gasp as he stumbles and almost falls and then look on again as a hand other than mine holds him and gets him back on his feet, fingers other than mine wipe his tears and know that there is finally that someone special for him to look after him; and with a dawning realization tearing at my heart realize that he won’t miss me anymore; and slowly, prepare myself to withdraw, to leave the stage where my part in the Play is over and where lingering on will probably an eye sore; and then, just as I’m about to leave, heavy-hearted and red-eyed, feel a hand clutching at my finger and turn around to find my little boy peeking at me through the eyes of this grown up man and find one more pair of gentle eyes looking up at me, along with my son’s, asking my why I was leaving when she had just come; telling me that they both wanted me with them; then feel the warmth of affection wash over me, wave after wave and gently but gladly relinquish my hold on my boy and let him, finally take charge of not just himself, but my life too and rest back in peace; to wonder again about how much like his father he is; and then, be unable to hold back your joy when he presents to me, a tiny replica of himself and look into his happy eyes and know that if death were to come to me now, I would walk with Her gladly, no misgivings, no fears, no tasks incomplete, Life lived to the brink, the happy taste of memories still lingering on my lips….


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