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Déjà View



Autumn's enveloping us; I've been noticing over the last couple of weeks.

The air is a little chillier, the days are getting shorter and the leaves are still clinging on for dear life, before they drop their jewel coloured corpses, to be kicked and scrunched by conker searching foragers.
 
I heard Philip Schofield bemoaning his dread of the looming university deposits, and was reminded of my own feelings this time last year.

With a whiff of smugness, I *tisked* and considered how I was looking forward to the second year deposit of eldest giant. 

The shift from halls to first (rented) home brought back memories of my own first steps to independence, spag-bol and piesporter; I was feeling excited, on eldest giants behalf.

In truth, I was looking forward to a weekend away (enforced, due to home-uni distance) and was well prepared to make the most of the planned: bed, breakfast, evening meal and mooch ‘round the shops.

It came as a bit of a shock then, when the moment of goodbye, awkward street hugs (for the stooping giant) and watching the seven league stroll into the distance, left me with an unexpected feeling of morososity (I know that’s not a word).

Whilst remaining brave, it dawned on me that the ache was just the same as the one I’d felt all those years ago, on the introduction to our new born child. An overwhelming feeling that I could no longer protect this precious perfection, as I had done in the womb.

After the joy of seeing and knowing and studying every detail of the tiny body in my grasp, I felt an enormous burden of responsibility as the delayed realisation of separation engulfed me.

And there I was being smacked in the stomach with this same feeling. I realised that my maternal instinct, groomed to perfection over two decades, was screaming ‘you can’t protect anymore'.

Quashing this urge, I pulled myself together and considered that I could take a leaf out of Philip Schofield’s book and buy a DVD boxed set to help me through the lengthening evenings. 

Because, like the seasons, our children should always move forward.

4 comments:

  1. Lovely post Carrie.
    Wishing your son every success with his course, the world is his oyster.
    Enjoy the boxed set!
    And now I would like to wish myself success in posting this comment. I am in the library, so lets hope it works...

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  2. Aha, have faith ... You did it! Thank you for your kind words and apologies for sounding a little Alan Partridge there 😳

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  3. If morosity isn't a word - it should be. A perfect capture for a painful feeling.
    Great post. Love your musings...

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  4. Gosh, thank you Elephant's Child, I feel humbled that you say that - on top of taking the time to take a look at my musings :)

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