Like a child I’ve turned my back on darkness; refuse to look at loss. Instead, I choose to play.

I want to make pretend trains from recycled cardboard boxes, power them with fart noises and leave trails of homemade fluoro goo on all the armchairs.

I want to jump so high on a trampoline that my skin scrapes the sky and my bounce sends you flying high in triple, your delightful squeals matched by mine; we bond. You fall and roll to one side, then just as quickly back again; unpredictable.

In the summer heat of the afternoon we lay on our backs in the cool of the lounge room, faces upturned. We photo-filter ourselves into scary dragons, light-filled faeries, alien heads; your giggle so infectious.

At 6, your giggle holds all the wisdom; your heart so huge you can’t contain it; an over-excitement, a shared joy.

When we have to say goodbye, we cannot bear it; we giggle and wiggle away.

Like a child I’ve turned my back on darkness; refuse to look at loss. Instead, I choose to play.

For RJB and all my little people far away xx