Linking up with Lisa-Jo and her lovelies as we write for five minutes, just five minutes, each and every week.
This week's prompt is ache.
This ache has been with me as long as I've known.
It's part of me.
As much a part of me as mad curly hair, looking on the bright side, adoring letters, being obsessed with Christmas and randomly bursting into song at odd moments..
Ever since I was tiny, I've wanted to be a mum. The wendy-house was my favourite hang out in primary school. I used to buy baby clothes for my Cabbage Patch Kids as a preteen, saving up my pocket money to hit the thrift shop for some outfits. In my teens I daydreamed and doodled and thought of names (often much to the amusement of my own very practical mother, who would howl with laughter at some of my zanier creations). On the list of things I wanted to do, being a mum was always, always, always at number one.
I'd say I became properly broody at about sixteen. Babysitter-extraordinaire, I loved my wee charges and longed for the day when I would have a home and a family of my own. Then I hit my twenties, in all their fun and lonely and mad wonderfulness. The plans I'd so lovingly made fell by the wayside in the face of singledom and hurt and career and adventures. The longing turn to an ache, and each year as my birthday approached a strange ennui would fall over me. My greatest wish moved further away.
And then I met Matthew. I love him and he loves me, and, to quote the infamous purple dinosaur himself, we're a happy family... And the ache is still there, but it's less raw than it ever was. Bizarrely, being in my thirties and happily attached to someone who has always been deliciously frank about the kids thing has given me peace on this. The burning desire is more a serenity. If I'm blessed enough to be a mother, you can bet I will be the happiest, most excited person in the world, watching one of their greatest dreams come true. If not, I hope I'll be the best aunt or godmother in the world.
The ache will still be there, but some aches are necessary in this long and wonderful life we all share. If I did have kids I'm sure other aches would appear (the ache of leaving my career, which I adore, for a time, springs immediately to mind), but whenever I think of an ache, I think of the mum thing.
Told you I always look on the bright side!