The years and times

I've been meaning to write a blog about this for quite some time. It appears that time is now and it couldn't be more apt.

The last week or so of February is always a nice time for me. And during my lunch break today, I realised that pretty much most of the really important moments in my life happened in the last week of Feb. Or rather the life changing moments.

The last week of Feb is when my son was born. Without a doubt, that was the moment I became a woman. Every year on the eve of his birthday, I write to him or about him and what I wish for him in the year ahead. He turns 14 within a few days and I'm still in awe that I brought this child into the world. That I have formed this teenager who is lovable, loved, funny, kind and sensitive and clever. My word, is he clever! And polite. He has good manners and in this world where teenagers get such a bad rap, I'm seriously proud of my CG who remains as delightful as he was since the day he was born. Oh yes, of course he is moodier by the minute (those horrible teenage hormones and emotions) and is prone to stubbornness (just cannot fathom where he got that from). But he is mine and he is amazing and I hope he continues to grow in that vein. I don't think he knows how much he is cherished and loved and adored by myself and his maternal grandparents. But again, that's not really something you know when you're a teen. You know it when you are a toddler and when you are an adult but I remember being 14 myself and raging at the world and thinking I was so unlovable. But yet, I was the most loved child.

It's fairly well established that I am the Memory. That I remember quite a lot others have forgotten. And on this day 23 years ago and about this time (give or take an hour and much time travel between the hemispheres) I was on a train becoming best friends with N. Now as a young girl, you swapped best friends weekly. I flitted from group to group and had a core that I counted as my best friends. N is different. On the 24 Feb we became 13 13. 23 years later and she's still the woman I turn to, when no one else understands what's happening in my head completely. I know she will not judge, I know she will be honest and I know she'll listen. I have shared every part of my life with her....there is no secret this woman does not know. I could write quite a bit about our bond. And I find it very fitting that we took that train journey on this night in 1989, in that week which changed my life. Maybe the Universe chose that week for me - to meet two people that would form who I am. And then the same week to have my son, another person who forms who I am now.The thread that runs through my life per se. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure if it even matters but I can remember more about that week, the feelings I was feeling, the clothes I was wearing, the conversations I had down to the last word, than I can about most things I've experienced.
There's no doubt this is a very special week for me whatever year it is... I was due to be born this week but I wasn't (I waited just another week - YES! It's my birthday soon!). And it's a good week, a great week, my week.
And people say I hark to the past.. it's not a bad thing. I grow from my past. I don't wish I was back there - not at all, but I can sit here and think tonight 23 years ago, I danced to the Coca Cola song in a room full of people, when it felt like there was just two of us. I watched the Lost Boys but only for a little bit. I ran for a train with my N at 10.05pm and we shared a meeting of the souls hanging out the window, and I stayed up all night talking of boys and mischief and making toasted cheese. I can remember that and I can smile and be happy that I found two people that understood my soul. Some people wait a lifetime for that kind of meeting.

Yes, this is rather sentimental and possibly puke inducing. That's the kind of mood I'm in.