Dear Son,

Today would be your 23rd birthday. I can’t imagine that I would be top of your party list. Mothers tend to cramp one’s style. Still, I think about how you would celebrate.

Would you feel too old for cake with candles? I wonder if a family dinner would be on the agenda. I picture your Gran fussing over you. Your Aunts & Uncles buying you drinks & taking the piss. I see you surrendered to your little cousin’s nonsense entreaties. It’s all perfect. Of course I know life wouldn’t always be that way, but this is what I hoped to give you.

Recently I’ve been wondering what would come next. When I kissed you goodbye, where would you be headed off to? I was self sufficient by 23. I graduated that year, I was living alone in a flat I hated & working a crappy job to get by. My mental health was a mess & adulting was a learning curve. It wasn’t all bad. I was young & answerable only to myself. I had good friends and we made the most of our youth. I partied as many nights a week as I could afford. I felt such satisfaction; paying the bills, managing a home. Living life on my terms. Always, though, you were missing.

I thought of how my life would be with you then as much as I do now. The younger years were easier to imagine. I don’t know what decisions you would have made. I’d have wanted you to go to University. I’m sure I’d be happy to still have you at home. Perhaps you’d have a partner. You could be just like me. A new graduate balancing a job & the clubs. Or maybe you’d have taken an entirely different route. I’d support anything that made you happy. I’d be proud of the man you would be becoming.

I only write today, but you’re in my thoughts every day. I’d have done whatever it took to give you everything you needed.

Love always,

Mum.