Today's post has been brewing a long, long time. I've scribbled thoughts on paper, fleshed them out on my phone and now am going after them with my mind open and my heart willing. (Aside , it can be a strange process sharing all this sometimes - the actual nuts and bolts of how these pieces come together changes. There's times I want to write and can't and other times I don't want to sit down and face it but my minds churning out thoughts, memories, words and more).
Ive always loved spending time with children. The energy they have, the purity of their love, the endless intrigue, the simplicity and the unwavering loyalty. Ever since I was a young adult people told me how good I am with kids - "he'll make a great dad someday" - and to me it's something I really enjoy. I think if you show honesty, openness and love to any child their response will reflect that.
My dreams to father children with Liane are over now. Our children were going to be long-haired, barefoot, cheeky and wild blurs tearing around the house in a lovable tornado of song, dance and mischief. Carefree, imaginative readers. Feisty, independent thinkers with a thirst for fun, for art and for the outdoors. Grandchildren to doting grandparents. Cousins to my godchild. Friends to our friends children. Brothers and sisters to each other - protective, proud, quarrelsome, loud and happy.
Instead I'm left behind. I've four godchildren and I love them more dearly than most things in this world. Spending time with them (and with other children) is uplifting and special. The bond I feel growing is so full and unquestioned. I wonder somewhere deep in this cosmic ballet if that was part of the plan for me? Or if the chance to parent will come back years/decades down the line?
Either way, the fact is that spending time with children brings me great heart and happiness. Life is so straightforward. They help me reset, much like a cold morning swim. Cherish them.