PARENT & CHILD

She Wrote This for her 21 Year Old Son

He was born in a private clinic on a Caribbean island, during an eclipse of the moon

Born in a private clinic on a Caribbean island, during an eclipse of the moon. I always knew my son would be special.

My friends climbed a hill, to play their guitars and sing songs, in celebration of his birth.

He was rocked to sleep to Van Morrison, while taking naps in the hammock. If the music stopped, he would wake up.

I was waiting until the papaya tree in our garden which had only one fruit on it, was high enough to reach from the balcony. I felt this papaya would be his first solid food when the growth time was right for both of them — and it was.

I teethed him on chicken drumstick bones and corn on the cob husks, instead of plastic toys.

He was raised on reggae to the likes of Gregory Isaacs, Beres Hammond & Garnet Silk.

He had a stammer in his speech for the first few years. It disappeared the more we sang.

He lived through the very scary hurricane Louis. We were trapped for 3 days by a landslide before we could get out. I’m not sure if he remembers this as he was so young.

He was initially raised in restaurant life. He loved spicy salsa and was adored by all of our waitresses and customers.

He ran free, barefoot and safe, up and down the beach where our little wooden house was. His long hair was always caked up with sand.

He would eat breakfast on the back terrace, sharing his crumbs with little birds and lizards who weren’t afraid of him at all.

He would happily sit on my back while I went swimming far out to sea.

He screamed bloody murder the first time he went on a jet ski at age 3. The whole beach crowd heard him coming back around the cliff.

He faithfully lay curled around my feet like a little puppy for hours when I had collapsed on the floor. I’d eaten some very questionable cake, and I couldn’t even raise my head.

When the volcano in Montserrat erupted, and the ash blew over to our island, we had to wear dust masks in the street. For safety, I sent him off the island alone, with an airline courier to live with my parents in the UK for 6 months. He was only 4 yet so very brave.

He was my chess partner for years until he joined the chess club at school. Now he beats me every time.

I would croggy him on the back of my bike to take him to school. This was in the days before I could afford to buy him his own bike. In fact, we went everywhere together on that one bike. You should have seen the balancing act of our supermarket shopping trips. One mum, one kid, and 6 bags of food.

He spent years hanging out in his Grandma’s hair salon, where he was doted on by the customers. The old ladies loved having their hair washed by him. Even though he had tiny hands, and had to stand on a stool, he still did a pretty good job. He even made more tips than the stylists.

I took him cycling around huge lakes, and we climbed mountains as high as Helvellyn, Scafell Pike, and Snowdon. We went out in some really harsh conditions sometimes. I didn’t want him to grow up being a ‘fair weather’ kind of kid.

He used to get bullied at school, because of his healthy eating. (Kids can be so cruel). After a friend suggested I take him to Thai Kick Boxing classes to build up his confidence, I still advised him to talk his way out of situations if he could. I told him if that didn’t work, just give them one quick strike and walk away. Just make sure the teachers don’t see. He was fine from then on.

He was always a terrible loser, especially at Monopoly & badminton. This would upset him so much until one day he made the decision to learn to win instead. Problem solved.

He was really struggling with maths at school until an academic friend of mine suggested I teach him to cook by himself. I think it was something to do with the notion of following a recipe using the same part of the brain as following a maths formula. I did, and it worked. At the age of 8, we began with him handwriting out a basic pasta sauce recipe. All of his savoury creations extended from there, and he became a fantastic cook.

At age 13, I wrapped up his first kitchen knife for his birthday. He was going away to a youth camp, and I had to write a letter to the group leaders to tell them my son had a knife in his bag. I assured them it was safe, as he knew how to use it.

He’s the only person I know who can add every ingredient in the cupboard to a recipe, and still have it turn out tasting delicious.

His school reports consistently said he was a dreamer, and (in so many words), he wouldn’t conform. I probably shouldn’t have been smiling when the teachers complained to me about this.

We would occasionally skive off school for the day, and instead, hang out in Borders Bookstore café, just reading books and playing chess.

His obsession for remote control cars meant, for months after every Christmas holiday, I was tripping over them whizzing around the house. As he grew bigger, so did his cars.

He was in the TV program ‘The Choir - Boys don’t Sing’. It was a project organized by a vocal teacher who wanted to create a choir from scratch in an all-boys school. My sons singing voice wasn’t the best at the time, so instead of giving up, he and his friends decided to beatbox instead. They eventually performed at The Royal Albert Hall in London. The show went on to win a BAFTA.

I sent him to do The Firewalk when he was only 13, at a Tony Robbins event in London. I was so relieved, and so proud when I received his text saying “Yeeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh I did it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I thought I’d lost him one day when he skidded and disappeared down a slippery bank, whilst we were cycling in Scotland. He fell so far down, that at first, I couldn’t see him. Fortunately, the trees prevented him from slipping beyond our rescue capabilities, but it still scared the crap out of me.

He confidently settled midterm into a new country and new school in Los Angeles. (The school we chose was actually the one partly used as Rydell High in the movie Grease). While he was there he randomly decided to learn Italian, which was something I never knew he was interested in.

He travelled every summer through his teens by himself to the US, for the Global Youth Leadership event held in Los Angeles. Initially, he attended as a participant, then later as a youth team leader, assistant to the councillors, and then finally as a photographer. He was always 2 years younger than the minimum age requirement, but they never found out until he was much older and it no longer mattered.

He has made some truly amazing friends all around the world. I would have loved a best friend like him when I was younger.

I took him out of school at age 15 to be home-schooled. My great idea of him being at home doing bookwork all day didn’t work. He was so bored with it, I took him to start Latin Ballroom dance lessons instead.

He became the British Latin Cha Cha Champion at age 16.

I’ve watched him dance on so many stages, including The O2 Arena, and alongside some massive Bollywood stars. I am always in awe of his talent. The soppy mum that I am, I was always in tears.

He played the part of Bernardo in West Side Story in a huge theatre. I was there in the audience, 3 times a week, proud mum and chief groupie.

He’s had his heart broken, and he has unintentionally broken other people’s hearts. But, he is loyal to the core.

I’ve watched him drum, stomp, ballet, tap, jazz dance, sing, act, and fight on stage. I am such a fan.

When I was pregnant with his brother, he protectively did all of the bending-down tasks for me. He even cleaned out the cat tray for months after it was necessary. Admittedly I was milking that one for a very long time ;)

When he left home to go and be a dancer on a cruise ship, I collapsed and couldn’t breathe. I was lost and felt like I’d had my right arm removed.

He used to spend such an annoyingly long time in the bathroom when he was getting ready to go out. Now, I really miss the lingering smell of his cologne throughout the house, when he’s gone.

I loved Sunday mornings, eating slap-up breakfasts and watching back-to-back episodes of Friends with him.

He is always up for a late-night slob out, biscuit and chocolate feast, even now.

I was so happy, when he said he’d be my co-driver for my journey to Spain. Being cramped in a car for 3 days with a broken stereo could have been torture — especially as prior to this, neither of us would ever leave the house without a music playlist. I was nervous about the move, as I would be leaving him in the UK now he was officially an ‘adult’. I couldn’t have wished for a better partner to talk to, take photos and pass the time with, throughout the long drive.

He’s an amazing artist, an awesome dancer, a talented chef and photographer, and a beautiful soul. He has such exciting ambitions and I have no doubt he will fulfil all of his dreams. Even though he has driven me to the heights of insanity with our crazy irrational arguments, he manages to melt me into a puddle, with his kindness and sweetness. My boy has now grown up, and I want to share with the world how proud I am of him.

He is the best son and brother a mum could want.