Ai first day back at school too
First day back at school today.
The alarm went off—I didn’t need to get up, but I did. My son’s fifteen, and he can manage on his own, but I still made him a sandwich. With his type one diabetes, I like knowing he’s got something good in him.
I watched him tie his laces for the first time. And then off he went—my heart, walking down the street on legs longer than mine will ever be. Into the rain. To the bus stop.
And I couldn’t help but think back to me at seven.
Getting ready alone, Leaving the house at 7:15. Walking a mile to the station. Catching the 7:47 train. Then another mile on the other side.
Buying a jam doughnut for 10p. Sometimes honeycomb from the market man who called me Strawberry.
Pens and pencils? I stole them. Just so I wouldn’t get in trouble.
Breakfast was walnuts cracked with my teeth in the playground. Always desperate for the loo. Once, I tried to use it, and a teacher shouted and threw me out.
Even getting home wasn’t easy. My sister often stole my bus fare, so I walked again. Through speeding cars on the dual carriageway, too scared of the subway. I was only seven.
So today, when I see my son step into the rain—fed, cared for, supported—I feel grateful. His morning looks nothing like mine.
Would you like me to suggest a short caption-style ending line (something that invites empathy and connection, like what you’d put under the post photo if there was one)?
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