Yes, Noel, my older son just turned 5 on the 19th of April.

I never got to blogging about his trip to Legoland. We had a sweaty good time, with baby Vincent,  Noel’s daddy, and his favourite cousin Andrew. I’ll get to it soon I hope but today I’m gonna talk of something else.

Today I dropped my sleeping boys at their Auntie’s house, watching their sleeping faces as I hand them over one by one. As always, Noel stirs once he’s in his auntie’s arms. I can’t figure it out. It happens everytime I carry them from the car to her house door; the minute Noel feels he is in his auntie’s house, he stirs and awakens.

I hurry to the car after a quick kiss and a hug (he’ll demand them each time), and reasurrances of  “Yess Yesss, I’ll pick you up at 7 o clock (when in truth it was to be 10 o’ clock. But you sometimes have to allow kids what they want to think)”

And just right before I back up the car, I am amused to see that Noel has scrambled out of Auntie’s arms, and is standing there at the door, with the sleepiest, dreamy expression, half smiling, half waving… if nothing -even sleep- was more important than waving goodbye to Mommy.

And it strikes me.

How deja vu.

Because I used to do this for my father.

I who at an early age, will wake in my bed, straining to hear something. And then I’ll hear it, the rumbling rolling sounds of a car engine starting. Then this young girl who was me will make a mad scramble to get up, run out of the room,  towards the locked front doors. And my father, will be just backing out of the driveway, looking pleased to see me, and I’ll stand waving waving waving….until he was gone. Then I’ll walk, feeling satisfied with myself, back to bed.

I think all these and look up to see Noel, still waving, trusting that I’ll come by later today to fetch him home. It was a  beautiful drive to work that morning. The world looked really pretty and I was thinking of how my son is so like me in so many ways.