M was slightly older than T now when we last made a visit to the UK. It boggles my mind to think that then he was still only crawling around and now he runs circuits round the home and T is here and crawling at speed. I am so madly in love with these boys that some days my heart doesn’t know what to do. Some days the fear of that love so overwhelms that all I can do is just breathe in and out while I hold them.
Tonight, as we lay down for bedtime, T feeding on my left side, M nestled in the crook of my arm on the right, stretching his arm across me to cuddle his little brother. The love that they have for each other is the purest of things and adds to the immenseness of it all. All I can do is just hold them and breathe. Place my nose inside T’s milky breathe. Inhale deeply over M’s curl freckled crown. Lie them (wrestle M) onto dew dampened green grass and let their laughter send my heart flying high. These moments, when the air is sucked from your lungs with their presence, are when it’s so hard to give into the truth; our children are not ours for the keeping. Gifted to us to nurture, they’re destined to fly higher than us inshallah. Then one day they’ll fly higher still, back to the gifter and meet us again. We hope that’s the way it will be, we fear of the plans we know not.
The last time we were in the UK we had ten days to fit it all in. Blessed to have so many people to see, stressed with not enough hours to see them in. This time I’ve planned an extended trip to remove times’ elements and enjoy passing moments that never will come repeat. We can talk and talk and write and talk about people and places and food stuffs and leaves growing on trees but unless we put onus on the living of these then all they become is like time. Passing thoughts which we don’t notice leave.
Some days the fear of loosing my children is paralysing and I stand frozen watching twenty fingers twirl a lion’s tail trying to capture the breathe that’s been taken from me, praying it to stay within them. That breathe never comes back to me, but as the lion comes hurdling, new air circulates and our laughter combined refuels its CO2. Life passes and time ticks. We just don’t understand ’til we’ve seen it through them.
UK countdown commence: T-3days and counting.