The rain’s falling outside, flanked by the darkness, a static hiss like and old TV, but warmer than that. In here, muffled by the double-glazing, it is safe, comfortable. Sodium lights the way. Nearly five years out now. I’d like another five. In the morning, Leo starts big school.
The last five years have been the hardest and worst of my life, but also possibly the best five. Honours even. Life is hard, but so am I. The rain falls. I have raised a boy from conception to school, thinks mainly to others. But I’m here, at the bottom of the bucket list I wrote on diagnosis, ready to walk my son to school in the rain, just like I said I would.
What would the stoics think?
I love my life, really. I have got to know love, and hurt, and joy. Pain, regret, stupidity, inspiration, thee good and the bad. And it’s not ending soon any more. No more of that shit for me. I’m divorcing death for the time being. In the morning, when Leo is safely away learning how to be a grown-up from other grown-ups, we can work. We can play. We can fuck. We can plan. We can get our lives down off the shelf, until three fifteen, when he wants us back again. I love that idea; that arrangement. That bargain makes sense. For what feels like the first time in a long time, we - Tamsin and I - are in charge again. Until 3.15, when he wants us back.
Tonight, we’ll drink martinis and listen to the rain. Tomorrow is all his. I’m so proud of him I have cried. I have on occasion hated fatherhood. It didn’t come naturally. It probably won’t now. I have been making it up since day one, because everyone else does. It has driven me to the outskirts of sanity frequently. But I do love him. I love the looks on other people’s faces when they see him. I love it when I can get out of the now and remember what Tam and I went through, and will still go through. Yes, the future is scary, but it’s also mine, and ours, together.
Tomorrow will be tough, just as other tomorrows have been. It’s like he’s leaving, and the little boy that comes back will be different. More power to you, little man we made. More power to you. See you tomorrow for another day, then.
