But a bigger day in the life J, my 18 year old son. He has started life as a student in Nottingham.
I have been pre-occupied since I returned from New York on Tuesday with his impending departure. On Wednesday lunchtime I went to get him some bits and pieces from Tescos and found myself choking back tears as I bought him tins of soup.
The whole house had been piled high with stuff to go and stuff to throw for the past week or so. I couldn't get along the upstairs corridor without scaling over some of his stuff. I've been back home now for nearly three hours and I can't yet face going upstairs as I am not ready for the clear corridor which means he doesn't live here anymore.
When we (me and his girlfriend) arrived at his place it was a flat for five residents but he was the first one there. Some four hours of queuing for various essential cards and passes later, his girlfriend and I had to leave but at that point he was still the only one there. I don't have the words to explain how terrible I felt as we drove away, me seeing him in my car mirror, thinking he was going to possibly be alone all night.
Thanks to the wonders that are mobile phones, texts arrived on our way home to say two lads had turned up and he was liking them both. I felt slightly better.
But now I am sitting here alone - both the other two are out working (another first this week in the case of my daughter)- and I keep picturing the chubby faced, blonde curly haired little cherub who old ladies used to coo over - and I can't understand where those years have gone.
Better stop now before my tears damage my key board.
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