You Were Only Six

I was 10 when he was born. Tiny and pink and fragile, all bundled up in those pale blue blankets the hospital wraps them in, the kind that made my arms itch when I held him- but I didn’t mind, he was beautiful.

It was just past your first birthday when you pulled yourself up on the chair, and took your first steps towards me. I remember laughing and calling out to mum, “Come see, come see!” She got the video camera out and we taped those first few uncertain steps before you fell into my arms, with the biggest grin on your face like you knew this was big news.

You were 3 years old when you crashed your trike into the garden wall. You cried and cried while I carried you inside. “It hurts, it hurts!” you whimpered and I had to bite my lip as I watched the tears run down your perfect little cheeks, rosy from the sharp wind outside. I remember sitting with dad while we waited for you to come home and promising myself that I would never, ever let you get hurt again. You needed 3 stitches to sew up the gash on your knee.

Just after you turned four we went on a holiday to the beach. We had so much fun that week, building castles in the sand and playing in the surf, racing the waves as they crashed down and receded. I remember lifting you up onto my shoulders and you squealed with excitement as we chased the seagulls. Mum took a photo and it’s my favourite, I have it pinned on my wall next to my bed.

The next year you started school, you looked so grown up in your uniform I couldn’t believe it! I remember giggling as I watched mum cry, while trying to choke back my own tears. You paraded around in your shiny new black shoes and blue hat, all the while the camera snap, snap, snapped away. We used a whole roll of film on you that morning.

You turned five and we took turns sitting next to your bed. I used to read you stories and when we ran out I just made up my own. Some days you were so tired you could do nothing but watch me, but others you managed a smile. I’ll always remember those times.

I remember your sixth birthday, I spent it alone. It felt like we were just playing a massive game of hide and seek and I searched and I searched but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I cried a lot that day. Mum and dad did too. You were so tiny, so precious, so special. You weren’t even six. And you were gone.