Medicare Card - written January 2007

R_ will be leaving home soon. He has done extremely well in his Yr 12 International Baccalaureate exam, surprising us by getting 44 out of a possible maximum of 45. Translates to a tertiary entrance ranking score of 99.95. He wants to do a dual degree in Law/Engineering, and has been offered a National Scholarship at the University of his first choice.

He has been in the clouds the last couple of weeks. It hasn't sunk in yet for him, that he is leaving the family nest and making his own way in the world. It has hit me of course, and so I am predictably fluctuating between feeling so happy for him and a sense of loss. My first born is leaving home.

I have been my usual practical self - encouraging him to start packing whatever he needs now, given him his passport to be responsible for, shown him his bank account details, organised the final driving lessons, discussed concerns about partying too hard, alcohol, being safe. He will leave a day before I return from a work related overseas trip. He won't be here when I get back, I won't be able to say my farewell in the way I would have liked. My conference had better be worth it!

He came into the city with me today, to stock up on socks and jocks. I looked at his face shining with excitement and anticipation as he talked about University. I can still see the baby in him, the little face with bright light blue-grey eyes that greeted me when he was born. People wondered at the colour of his eyes; they slowly darkened to a light brown. How tiny he was then, how nervous I was as a first-time mother, and how far we both have come. His every step has been a learning experience for me. I think I have done alright as a mother and it is time to let go. Yet, yet, there is something that I find I cannot do. I cannot get his name removed from my Medicare card. Before he was born, the card had only my name. Then his was added, and so with the other two children. But it was his addition to my name which made me feel, for the first time, less alone in this vast country with huge spaces, less of an outsider. And of all the changes I will need to make to my life, this one, the Medicare card, is right now the most difficult.

To my first love

I have lain beside you

My body been your playground 

My hair your refuge 

I have drunk your tears 

tasted your laughter, 

and you mine

You learnt to be patient,

with my tilting at windmills; 

my picking at your shirt button

And I learnt, to hold you close 

and try to make you whole again

I do not recall where we first met 

Was it the camp for the blind? 

Or the school social? 

I remember well our first exchange 

You said, "You are a bit of magic, I am afraid you will disappear" 

And I said, "You are my rock, I am afraid you may not move" 

Now you go, 

taking a part of me with you 

and

leaving your imprint 

forever behind 

The wonder is neither of us is less