Detrice Matthews

There’s this boy I know. The boy who loves numbers and football, and collecting conkers and most of all spending time with his friends. Autumn is upon us again, a new school year, another bonfire night, another football season, another set of school runs that I may or may not be late for. This blog was a story about a boy, whose mummy was poorly when he started school and she wished so hard to be there each time the bell rang at the end of his day.

Noah has made new friends wherever we go – starting with our flight a kind little boy named Noman (renamed Norman) who shared his fidget spinners & sweets right to the many other children who are more than happy to join in the dive bombing at the poolside edge. balcony has been a highlight (perhaps one for the bucket list) and has fuelled many conversations about Shakespear, love stories and Noah’s favourite ‘biting of the thumb’ by way of insulting your enemies. Each day Isla makes up a little dance and tries her best to read bits of my books and score yet more ice lollies by asking one or the other of us. The children have rediscovered a love for colouring in, while we chat idly about how we would love to buy a small house here for our retirement one day, perhaps for our grandchildren to run around in.

After a few days of turning the news down in the car I realised that I could only partly protect him from the truth. Her eyes sparkle green just like her daddy’s, and her little arms and legs seem to never stop moving. More and more I am learning to appreciate the little things and the normal. The things that we do together and the things that might fade over time.

I don’t mean my diagnosis of breast cancer, I mean before that, just after I had my little girl. I wouldn’t admit it because I didn’t want to be seen as a failure as a mother. As I wrote things down though, it began to come out, and slowly but surely I got better. We took a much needed break to Italy & I remember still feeling the faint urges to leave – even as I got better.