So it turns out I’m one of those mums; the kind that has just a tad trouble letting go (like most of us).
I was fully expecting to ‘lose’ my son Winston this year, thanks to the start of secondary school, and him turning 13. I even cried a few cry baby tears because of it on New Year’s Eve.
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I was expecting to barely see him, thinking I’d no longer get to cuddle him, and would stop hearing about his day, as he truly embarked on his way to adulthood – not being my baby but my teenager.
I thought this year would be the beginning of a slow goodbye, even though I realised that’s the circle of life; watching our kids grow up is the way things are meant to be if you’re lucky. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t sad about letting go for the next chapter. It’s been just the two of us for a decade, and I headed into 2020 feeling sentimental about this year.
As it turned out, I was about to get a small reprieve, thanks to COVID-19 and the lockdown. For the past four weeks, Winston and I have been in isolation together, only having each other for company. It’s as if time has paused; and we’ve become closer than ever.