Hiraeth

3.

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. Is that wrong?

'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. The front door opens and closes, and 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 me how children can feel so much love without even knowing what the feeling is and without being able to describe it with words. They react to their impulses and don't have any concept of time. Their parents might be leaving for years for all they know, however, they won't be able to express the feeling the absence might create.

I was so little when my father left that I don't remember him. I only have a few glimpses of him. Yet the feelings are just as confusing as they were back then, and I still don't understand them. It's like I'm missing something, but I can't place what exactly, but this is how life has always been. It's always just been mum and I. However, somehow I still 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. I don't necessarily miss him, because I don't know who he is, but I miss having a dad. I miss that kind of male figure, because I've never had it. 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 likable to the opposite sex. I guess part of me just wants to feel like I'm enough.

"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. "I don't know what it says either," I say. The good thing about children is they seem to love you unconditionally, and when it comes to physical touch, you can practically give and receive as much as you like. There's nothing better than having 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 a good thing I'm not in a relationship because becoming a mum now would definitely not bring anything good to my life. The reasons I want a baby are not reasons that justify me putting a child into this world. Perhaps it's a good thing, I'm looking after this little man as 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 hand 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. It's nice that I mostly get the good parts, but the situation would be very different if I was looking after him 24/7.

Once I get off work, my phone rings and I look to see it's Dylan. I'm sure he's calling, because he knows I'll be off now and he 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 exactly why he calls me that?

It doesn't matter though. "I'm heading towards the bus."