I know one day, you will run away from my hug and towards your freshest school friend who has a backpack with cool stickers on it.
I know one day, you will walk home through the door and straight into your room so you can talk privately to your girl friend on the phone.
I know one day, you will travel the world with a back pack and a camera and dust all over your sneakers.
I know one day, you’ll attend gala dinners with a suit and a tie and the smell of assurance and confidence upon you as deep as musk.
I know one day, you will no longer fit into my arms. Your little legs falling out of the sides of my lap. Your ears listening to my heartbeat as you fall asleep.
One day you won’t cry when someone else tries to give you a cuddle and it isn’t me.
One day, I know, you won’t look up to me for reassurance – just to check if I’m still around, if I’m still looking.
I know all these things.
But my darling.
Humour me as you age.
Come home and ask me for your favourite dish (oh god, I hope you end up liking at least one dish!).
Call me as you think of me and end it with, “I love you Maa”.
Come home after a bad break up and we will read in bed and I’ll make you hot chocolate and we can watch something absurd that we will have watched in your childhood.
Tell me about that new scratch on your knee.
Tell me about that movie you saw and how it made you feel.
Because one day – you won’t need me as much, having moved on from childhood.
But darling, I’ll never move on from motherhood.