Boomerang

Without me knowing I had been building what you are now, stacking the necessary attributes that make who you are. I smile each and every time you do something that I would do. It's in the genes.

My hand to yours, looking back at each and every stage of your growth to where you are now. A snap shot of your hand placed in mine on a journey together from birth to current stage. Each time with a different theme.

 

You are of age where you can run, jump, and fly. But I've always given you the protection needed to be shielded from pain. My hand has a firm grip on yours but yours wriggles, wanting to be independent at least for a little while. Similar to the god of thunder and the hammer, without a glance to measure your distance from me, I open my hand and my mind calls for you and you run up to grab my hand and your footsteps become the reoccurring sound of spinning excitement.

My boomerang, I designed you. Drew and carved out your ways. Painted you and watched you dry. I am at the stage where I'm testing the waters as much as you do with your cheeky and mischievous behaviour, wondering how far I should throw you.

One day you'll read this and hopefully it'll mean something to you.

I don’t think I could ever throw you and turn my back, even though you'd land on your feet and create opportunities and eventually a family for yourself. No, not because of that but because my love for you won’t let me. I’ll do my best to teach you how to embrace the universal laws of the land, dodge the dangers and glide with the joys of everything around us.

 

I’ll be at the edge of the cliff with the sun kissing our skin every chance it gets and illuminating the sparkling blue waves below us, with you in my hand knowing that the time will come when I’ll have to throw you and let you fly toward your destination.

I’ll always be here watching with my hands at the ready should my boomerang ever want to come back home.