It is Tuesday morning.
I had slept horribly the night before, and awoke to the soft light streaming through the window into the room. The only sound is that of the fan blade spin above the bed. It feels like I am the only person in the house.
I lay in bed, surrounded by my own thoughts. It was the last full day I was going to spend with C before he heads back to Australia.
Soon after, outside my room, I can hear C awake and running along the corridor saying “Godma…” He knocks on the room door and bounces in, fresh from a good night’s sleep. With much excitement, he tugs my hand and pulls me out to play in the living room. He is sparkling with energy and looks absolutely cute.
We sat on the living room floor playing pretend with the little “dollhouse”, hide and seek with the dolls.
He points to the new book that we got him, and we turned pushed the tractor around the book’s track.
We giggle, laughed, and soon he ran off to get changed so that we could get some food.
He rushes towards the door wanting everyone to come along with him as we made our way down to the nearest food centre for breakfast.
Together with Clem (C’s mama), we went to get food for the little one. We turned at his shrieking “Mama… Godma….” and I dashed towards him. He collapses into my arms, all moist from his tears and sweat as I carried him to where his mama was waiting.
He relaxes as I hand him over to his mama and carried the food back to the table.
He points at the passing cars and giggles, counting numbers and stuffing his little face full of food.
Once he was full, he struggles free of his Mama and heads for the bakery where his daddy was picking up some bread. We watched as Jo, C’s daddy, picks him up and swings him around as they made their way back to the table.
He spots me looking at him and runs towards me, stretching out his tiny arms with a hotdog bun in hand.
” Thank you, baby boy.”
With a bright smile on his face, he squeals “Godma..” as I pulled him into a tight hug.