I miss Marcel as a friend - we have lovely chats, he's such a lovely young man, an interesting and interested one - we share a taste in music, in literature, in life and when he's away the silence is crippling. Thomas and Marcel and I can talk for hours on life, politics, economics, linguistics, history - you name it. I even miss the deep voice turning up at midnight with five other 15 year olds begging a mega-sleepover on my living room floor!
I miss Léon - my soft, innocent boy, my funny little boy with his wacky anecdotes, his endless chat about Harry Potter and pirates, my brave little boy who jumps from cliffs into deep water and yet won't sleep without his scabby Snowy teddy. My little boy who still needs stories and hugs and kisses.
Yesterday was Marcel's 15th birthday. I've never not been with him on his birthday before. I expect that'll happen a lot when they are adults but it only feels like a few years since he was born, so it doesn't seem right just yet.
Like a prison sentence, I'm ticking off the days till they come back from visiting their granny in France and I can go back to having my noisy, bustling, chaotic but happy and harmonious large family all under the one roof.
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