As I lay feeding you tonight, watching your eyes grow heavy and your breath deepen, I wondered what you would want to know about me one day, if I were to die. I imagined you sitting on a beach, lost in thought. I imagined your Aunty coming to you, and I imagined you asking her about me. It made me sad, seeing you there, staring at the stars and the waves, with your toes digging holes and your fingers massaging the sand as I love to do.
I wondered what she would say; what people would tell you, if I were gone.
I was just reading through the letter I wrote you last month and it feels like just last week I wrote it, but reading it back now, it seems like you were a small baby then.
I don’t really know where to start with this month. Your great-granny from South Africa came to visit with your uncle from Australia. You smiled at them, but preferred to be with me, at first. It only took a few days, though, and you were as much at ease with them as with Daddy and me. You and Granny got on really well. She whispered to you and you listened closely. She pretended to be the wind and you giggled. She rubbed noses with you and you squealed with glee.