8 Sep, 2014

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My Shining Sun

My Shining Sun
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As I started to write this, I realised “You’re gonna be writing a lotta blogs about him, lol”. And by “him”, I mean, my son, who shall be known as “D” or “Mon petit” from here on. (One day I might feel more comfortable sharing family members online, but until the “good guys” overcome the “bad guys” I trust that you’ll overlook this OCD that I have lol.)

My son just turned 26 last month, (I know, where did the years go, right?), but I’ve always said he is older than me. For one so young he has a very wise spirit. On the day he was born he lifted his head and looked around at us all gathered there making his grandmother remark “He’s been here before!”

Today, yet again, he’s saved my sanity lol.

After an emotional and mentally taxing visit to the parents yesterday, I’d been feeling a bit off-colour all day. I’d tried most of my usual methods to eliviate the blues. I tuned in to my favourite de-brainwashing radio station, but I’d missed the talk show I wanted to listen to. So instead, I laid out the khaki dril cotton I’m making hubby’s trousers from in preparation to cut out the pattern. I put in one of the dvds my brother lent me the day before. I’m sorry, but episodes 1-5 of Green Wing were not able to fully lift me out of my doldrums, but the parts are cut and ready for the overlocker which I’ll do when I wake tomorrow. It was the arrival of mon petit, home from work, which finally lifted my sinking soul out of the darkness into the glorious light.

“Bit dramatic”, you might think. I wouldn’t blame you, but when it comes to my son, I can’t help but be flamboyant with my language. He’s the reason why I’m even sewing in the first place. He was the one who rekindled my childhood hobby and passion. After nearly 30 years without a sewing machine (yes, yes, I know, shame on me), he bought one nearly fours ago because he wanted to make wrestling outfits. (We’ll discuss that another time.) All I can say is, I haven’t looked back. It’s been a blast! And it’s all thanks to him.

Today, yet again, D allowed himself to be my psycotherapist and listened whilst I moaned “woe is me and my life” for a good hour at least. After listening, fairly attentively (he’s a man afterall, and it WAS, like, after 11pm lol), he hit me with a rock. A DIAMOND rock.

“Mum. You’ve got it backwards. You’re not the black sheep. You’re the success. You’re not in the cycle. You’ve broken out. You’ve sung on stages – with audiences AND there’s recorded evidence. You’ve dj’d – ON RADIO and in clubs. You’ve made and fixed computers for people. You’ve TAUGHT people. You’re even venturing into entrpreneurship… Do I need to go on? Change your thinking.”

I almost cried in the kebab shop.

Because of my son, I realised why each child is born to their parent. We are here to teach as well as learn. There has never been a day when I’m in the company of my son that he hasn’t taught me something and where he hasn’t learnt something from me. Also, because of my son, I’ve renewed vision in my purpose and worth as a human being and a member of society. My batteries got a major recharge and I’m ready to get back to the grindstone with my normal contented frame of mind. And it’s all thanks to my “Shining Son”.

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