I remember the night you were born like it was yesterday. I arrived at your house to look after your brother, Big F, while your Mum was in hospital overnight. I couldn’t sleep, nervous excitement fending away sleep. The next morning we had a beautiful baby girl. You had the biggest most beautiful eyes I ever did see. You still do.
Today you’re making a REALLY long journey, leaving home to go to University and we won’t see you until Christmas when you’ll return home to the bosom of your family for festive silliness.
I said goodbye two days ago, a mixture of excitement for the adventure you’re about to embark on while struggling with the lump in my throat. “It’s not like I’m dying” you said with an eye roll and a smirk.
My contribution to your University survival, along with a book and a bar of chocolate, was a Mickey Mouse spatula, from my recent trip to Walt Disney World. The 10 year old told you that you could either cook with it or slap your new housemates with it – “You could be the University slapper” she said totally unaware as to why we fell about laughing.
I watch my sister, your Mum, displaying her stoicism by busying herself with the practicalities. Packing every possible essential to send her youngest child into the world; a jar of peppercorns, tea towels, a toilet brush and a bike pump are on the ever growing pile of things, taking over the spare room, that will be squeezed into her car.
Whatever you do, Beautiful D, I know you’ll do it brilliantly well. You’re right, you’re not dying [insert eye roll here] you’re growing wings, big glittery ones full of promise … and you have a jar of peppercorns, a Mickey Mouse spatula and a bicycle pump for protection, what could possibly go wrong?
Your VERY proud Auntie xxx
PS Make sure your mum has a pack of tissues for her return journey. I’m already imagining the snot bubbles …