Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,181
the most important moment in his life to date, was not his to decide.
Feeling uninspired to work, as if his heavy limbs couldn’t be trusted to construct even the most basic design, he instead opened his blog.
To say goodbye? To post a final entry? It felt like the right time to say enough was enough.
Even though he had learnt a hell of a lot more than he bargained for in taking on Siena Capuletti and her roller coaster ride of a change of scene, he had to be thankful that she had helped him complete that important stage of his life.
From now on he knew he had friends who would happily talk through his concerns. Matt. Mandy. Dave and Cate. His blog had served its purpose but it no longer had a place in his life.
His fingers paused over the keyboard as he searched for a way to say goodbye. But, before he typed a word, he noticed that some time that morning someone had left a comment against his most recent post.
He’d never had a comment before. That was probably one of the main reasons why he had continued with it for so long, because he’d thought nobody had been paying it any attention.
His hand hovered over the mouse, but curiosity won in the end and he clicked on the comment box. And then his throat closed over completely as he read the words on the page.
Saturday, 8:12am
Two days ago I met a boy.
I hadn’t been actively looking to meet one, which is usually when these things happen—in the moment when you are least prepared for them.
For unprepared for him I was.
Until I met this boy I thought I was living the high life. I’ve visited the Eiffel Tower fifty times. Fifty! I’ve taken classes to learn how to weld, how to dropkick a guy twice my size and how to trim a bonsai tree. Why? Because I was independent, self-sufficient and stubbornly determined to remain that way. I could take care of myself. I needed nobody.
But this boy showed me that my independence had come at a price. Independence meant isolation. Isolation had turned to loneliness. And he made me ask myself if I was really happy to drift about the ocean of life alone forever more.
And the answer?
No. I’m not. Because, since I have known this boy, I have discovered that I was never an island. I was merely a lonely soul adrift but now I have found where my home really is.
I only hope that I have not left it too late to tell him how much this has meant to me.
I understand why he might see me as too much hard work, because believe it, I am, and I understand that after last night he might not believe that I was only trying to do what was best for him, and for the son he loves so much, but I’m telling him how I feel all the same.
If he can ever forgive me for being slow on the uptake, if he is willing to take my scratched and dented heart, if he is able to see his way past my stubbornness, then he, this boy, this man, this man that l love more than anything in the world, more than my independence, more even than Rome and all it represents, he can have me.
Because, now that I know that I want to come home, I realise too that it would never be home unless he was there with me.
S
James let loose a nice loud helpful swear word.
Clinging to the mouse for dear life, he took a deep breath and read the whole message again, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
When he finally believed every word to be true, he swore even louder and grabbed for the phone, his hands shaking as directory enquiries put him through to Rick’s Body Shop.
‘Rick speaking.’
‘Rick, it’s James Dillon. Is Siena there?’
‘No, mate. That crazy-looking driver of hers picked her up to take her to the airport about half an hour ago. She still has to work that flight back to Melbourne. But I thought you—’
James hung up and was out of his chair, into the kitchen, grabbing his car keys and pulling a T-shirt over his bare chest and running down the front path faster than he had ever run before.
Slow Saturday drivers threatened to block his every turn, but somehow gaps in the traffic opened up before him every time he needed them to. Lights turned green