Evening on the stony beach, we’ve rock pooled and found anemones and a dead crab.
We’ve slid on seaweed and identified crustaceans.
I sit on a smooth rock, to watch the sea, to breathe, to think.
Come on! He shouts, I need you, Mummy!
And I sigh and heave myself to my feet and go to him.
I’m only briefly irritated. I’m glad he needs me, and even gladder than he shouts it out.
Even at my age, I still need you, Mummy. Sometimes you’re the only one who’ll do.
To be needed. It doesn’t always feel like it, but what a privilege.