My Child

My Child(Katrina Kyatt) "I just don't understand it," Elenoar sighed. "How could anyone take someone else's child like that? Especially yours!"

"I know," Karen said, tightly hugging her son she'd finally got back after two long weeks of worry and tears. "She was only seventeen too! I wish I could just understand; but the girl killed herself right after she called the police and turned herself in. Jumped right off her sixth storey balcony. Serves her right for taking my boy though."

***

Six months. It seems like no time at all, yet at the same time way too much. I can still hear his laughter. I would get to hear it everyday without fail. Everytime I made a silly face, everytime I tickled him under his little arms, and everyitme he found something new and exciting. The sound that made it all worth it. The best sound in the world. The sound I'll never hear again.

I still see his face everytime I close my eyes. His fair blonde hair he was always pushing away from his eyes. His round, little cheeks I would softly pinch while we were playing. His bright blue eyes that would light up with every smile. His little mouth, where he'd grown perfect little white teeth he'd show off with every smile. I miss that smile so much. It warmed me inside every time I saw it, to know he was happy and loved and would always be alright. Now that it's gone, everything's cold.

It's hard to believe at one stage I'd never wanted him born. At fifteen years old I had fallen pregnant. I then regretted that stupid party I'd gone to. I regretted agreeing to go for a walk with one of the guys there, Matthew Ryan. At the time we were good friends, but Matthew decided we should be more than friends. We stopped at the park near the party and reluctantly I agreed to have sex. Needless to say, soon after I found out I was pregnant. When I told my parents, they'd screamed at me and told me they never wanted to see me again. I'd run to my room to hide, and by the next day my father told me he'd found me an apartment he'd rent out to me. He told me he'd pay for my rent and transfer a weekly allowance into my bank account until I was eighteen on the condition I didn't try to make contact again. I'd kept my promise and stayed pregnant and alone in my apartment with no one to turn to. Matthew had of course accepted no responsibility so it was just me and my unborn child. I'd wished with all my heart that I wasn't pregnant and could take it all back as I lay abandoned in my bed at night. That all changed of course when I had my beautiful son; and suddenly all the pain was worth it. Even getting kicked out of home was worth it. I'd made a promise to always protect and love my little boy with my whole heart. I never imagined that in the end I'd fail.

I open the scrapbook in my lap to a random page and see a photo of us in the grass at the Botanical Gardens on our picnic rug. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was Autumn and we were playing in the leaves under one of the largest trees there. So many leaves had fallen and he loved running through them. He suddenly stopped and picked up one leaf. I didn't know why he picked that leaf. They all looked the same to me, but he had found this one special and worth keeping. He saw this leaf as beautiful and unique among all the leaves on the ground, yet to everyone else it was just another leaf. He held it up to his face and his eyes widened in wonder. "Look Mumma, it's even bigger than my face!" he exclaimed. "It's perfect!" He ran over and placed it in my hand. I thanked him and kept it safe in my pocket.

I look back down at my scrapbook and stroke the leaf. It had stayed there for six months and one day now; since my last happy day. And then a more painful memory comes to mind. The same one I've thought of every day for six months. The same one I know I will think of every day until the day I die. I had just got my provisional license after long and hard driving classes with an instructor. I'd saved up enough money from my weekly allowance to buy a car and a carseat for my little man. We were driving along a quiet road towards the playground we'd decided to visit that day. I started singing along to a song on the radio, and he tried to join in on the parts he knew. I remember looking back at him through the rearview mirrow and seeing his smiling face look back at me, still singing and having a good time. And then, like that, he was gone. A driver in the other lane had swerved to avoid a stray cat and crashed right into my car. I sustained a concussion and a broken arm. My baby boy died instantly. He only got to live for two years, three months and sixteen days; whereas I have to live the rest of my life without him. Without my whole world. Without my whole life. There is quote from Wuthering Heights that goes "I cannot live without my life!" This now applies to me more than ever.

I look up around the playground I'm sitting at and realise I'm crying. And then out of the corner of my eye I see him. I turn quickly and see the fair blonde hair I've missed so much, running around the playground. It's not him, but the resemblance is startling. He sees me looking at him, and instead of running away walks over to me, just as my boy would've. His eyes are so blue as they look up at me and see my tears. "Did your mummy have to leave you for a bit too?" he asks. "Don't cry. She'll be back as soon as she gets some yummies from her car."
I look down at him shocked. "Did your mummy leave you here by yourself?"
He nods. "She's just getting yummies from her car. She'll be back soon."

I can't believe it. A mother just leaving her child unsupervised with strangers! I never let my son out of my sight, not for a second. I look down at this boy and wish he had a better home with better parents. And then I realise what I have to do.

"How about we go get your mummy then?" I say, and reach out my hand for him to take.

He nods his head and takes my hand. We then walk away out of the park and for the first time in six months I feel there's still some hope out there.