Today is the day I want to honour my people.
My husband. Him of the blue eyes, salt and pepper hair and overgrown beard. The one who offers hugs when I panic, coffee when he’s making himself one and pep talks when they’re needed. The guy who helps me turn my head on the pillow at 3am because my neck hurts too much. Him.
And the eight-year-old chatterbox who catapulted me into motherhood. The one who never stops hopping, skipping, running, dancing, tapping her feet, jumping off things…all while talking a blue streak.
And the very nearly two-year-old whose favourite pastime is inspecting kitchen cupboards and drawers, always on the search for namnams. The one who has a bright future as a backing vocalist to her sister.
And the couple who tied the knot when she was a few months shy of 18, had two sons, waited another eight years and had a girl whom they spoiled rotten. And gave her all the love two parents could give, even though their love, time and energy were divided between four children.
And the fourth of those four children mentioned above. The one who creates masterpieces out of sugar. The one who’ll be making me an aunt for the eighth time. The one who’s four years younger than me but is so much wiser in so many ways.
You put up with me, you love me, you teach me and cheer me on. I tip my hat to all of you.