Hiraeth

3.

Although the cries tug at my heart, the thought of having someone else love you so badly they cry whenever you leave also does something to me. I wish I had another human being love me that much.

"It's okay, Jamie. Mummy will be back later," I coo in his ear as his mum waves at him. "Say bye, bye mummy," I try but Jamie says nothing, instead his wailing doesn't stop. I hear the front door open and close. I sit down on the floor with Jamie in my lap and pick up a car and move it in front of him. That's all it takes for him to forget about his mum, or at least enough to keep his mind distracted. It amazes how children can feel so much love without even knowing what the feeling is and without being able to describe it with words. They just react to their impulses and understandably don't have any concept of time. To them, their parents might as well be leaving for years, yet they wouldn't know, nor would they be able to express the feeling the absence might create.

I guess that's what happened to me. I was so little when my father left that I don't remember him. I only have a few glimpses of him. But just like I didn't really understand my feelings back then, I don't understand them now either. It's like I'm missing something, but I can't place what exactly. And this is how my life has always been. I don't know any different. It's always just been mum and I. Yet somehow that doesn't mean I don't miss him. Or maybe not him per se, but I miss what could have been. Or at least I wonder how my life had turned out had he not left. I think it would have been a lot easier in many ways. Mum could have gone to UNI and gotten a degree. Which meant she wouldn't have had to go from one low-paid job to the next worrying about rent and food on the table. And when I say I miss him, it's not exactly him I miss, but I miss having a dad. I miss having a father in my life. I miss that kind of male figure, because I've never had that. I guess that's why I've always tried very hard to please others — men especially, hoping to get some kind of acknowledgement from them — hoping I'm somewhat likeable to the other gender.

"Truck," Jamie says bringing me out of my thoughts, and I smile down at him.

"That's right, buddy. It's a truck. Does the truck make any sound?"

He narrows his eyes at me, and I shrug. "Yeah, I don't think it does," I say. The good thing about children is they seem to love you unconditionally, and when it comes to physical contact, you can practically give and receive as much as you like. There's nothing better than when those small arms wrap around you, and he buries his head in the crook of my neck. I might only be 20, but I swear I want a baby. Perhaps it's good I'm not in a relationship because becoming a mum now would definitely not bring anything good to my life. The reasons I would like a baby are not reasons that justify me putting a child into this life. I guess it's a good thing, I'm looking after this little man. It stimulates my mummy gene.

Is there any such thing?

Yet as much as I love spending time with him, it's also nice knowing I can give him back to his parents at the end of the day. I don't have to worry about sleepless nights, or crying, or shit for that matter. I never knew you could pay so much attention to someone's poo before I started looking after a toddler.

Once I get off work, my phone rings and I look to see it's Dylan. I guess he's calling because he knows I'll be off now and wants me to come over. "Hey," I say picking up.

"Hi, babe, what are you doing?" He asks, and I roll my eyes. I'm sure he knows. And I don't want to tell him, but I hate the way he calls me babe. Sometimes I swear he's using that name as not to get me confused with other girls.

Perhaps that is why he calls you that?

I shake the thought away; it doesn't matter. "I'm heading towards the bus," I say.