For Lewis On Your 19th Birthday

Lewis,

Every year when I sit down to write your birthday letter it becomes more and more apparent that with every passing year, I have less and less to share. It’s funny to think that years ago when I first started writing these letters I would always have so much to write that I’d literally have to pick out the highlights, scrolling through hundreds of photos on my phone to choose my absolute favourites. I guess I never thought so far ahead to think that one day I’d be sat here looking back on the last twelve months with the sad realisation that for the most part, I featured very little.

I’m sure if I were to ask your friends their favourite stories of the year you were eighteen they’d have a field day, reeling off one story after another of your weekend antics or your trips away. I’m sure if I were to ask your girlfriend for her favourite photos of you this year she would have hundreds, maybe even thousands, an array of selfies and group photos with you flashing that perfect smile of yours. I always knew the hardest part of parenting was letting go, what I didn’t know is just how hard it would be to accept that although you are still my whole world, I am just a small part of yours.

I suppose knowing that, and accepting that, means that when we do get the chance to spend time together those moments are all the more special. Whether it’s those ten minutes you come home from work and tell me something good about your day (or something bad – like falling through the floorboards), whether it’s a snatched conversation as you wolf down your tea or ask me have I watched anything good on Netflix, those moments are so precious. Whether you’re pacing up and down the back room as I work telling me about some harebrained scheme you’ve had to make your millions, or telling me about some ridiculous video you’ve watched on TikTok, those crazy conversations still mean the world to me. Whether you’re winding the girls up in the playroom or playing a game of FIFA with Harry on the Switch, hearing the four of you together is something that will never grow old, even as the four of you do.

We were lucky this year that amongst your apprenticeship and college, your friends, your girlfriend and your time with your Dad, we got to spend some real quality time together on holiday. Spending a whole week together in Turkey was exactly what we needed and we well and truly made the most of it. I will always remember it as the holiday when Harry insisted on getting you four glasses of Fanta at every opportunity and how even when the rest of us were gasping he would slap our hands away and say, “No, these are all for Lewis”. The holiday you’d roll out of bed, head straight to the snack bar and come back with four cheese and ham toasties and two rum and cokes, no matter if it was ten in the morning. The holiday you decked yourself out in fake designer gear from head to toe and vowed never to pay more than eight euros for a T-shirt again.

The holiday you and Gaz got wasted at White Night and you rolled in at six in the morning with no key having made a friend and spent the last few hours locked in a Turkish tattoo shop listening to rap music. The holiday we went parasailing and Harry said “This is just a dream!” on repeat, when you and Gaz went jetskiing and your jet ski broke and washed you up into a swimmers only zone, the holiday you did cliff diving and snorkelling and freaked out every single time Gaz mentioned the prospect of sharks. The holiday you got roped into the daily entertainment and the kids cheered you on at the tops of their voices as you flailed around on a boogie board. The holiday we laughed and we argued and we were just one big, loud, crazy family making the very best memories. It was one of the best holidays we’ve ever had, no doubt about it.

We were lucky to get a second week together skiing in the Alps, a holiday you jumped at the chance to join us on and that Harry counted down to for weeks once he knew you were coming too. I’ll never forget your excitement as you told me about parasailing off the top of the mountain and the hilarity of how Gaz had lost one of his skis, the look on your face as we raced through the Alps on the snowmobiles that evening with Harry clinging to the back of you shouting “Wahoooo!” as you disappeared into a white out. I’ll never forget the sound of your laughter as you whizzed down the steepest runs desperately trying to keep up with Harry, shouting back to me as I crawled down at a snails pace, “Harry is actually insane!!!”.

I’ll never forget the times you’d watch me rolling down a mountain, head first, screaming for my life, just shaking your head in disbelief at how dramatic I was being, or how you’d then hold out your hand to help me back up and tell me, “You’re doing really well! Just keep going!”. I’ll never forget our many detours up icy cliff edges, the night you went to sleep in a bus stop or our over-tired giggles at Gaz wearing his Manchester United shirt in a swanky restaurant. I’ll never forget the feeling of being up there on top of the world, surrounded by the four of you, knowing that I was still the luckiest Mummy in all the world to be making these memories with you.

I may not have the hundreds of glossy photos that I do of your sibings this year, and I may not have the luxury of knowing I spent every moment of our time together, but what I do have are some really special moments I’ll never forget. I have a camera roll full of funny snapshots you’ve sent me, some I can share on here and many I can’t. I have thousands of text messages, sent at all times of day, asking what we’re up to, sharing the most random thoughts and mostly asking me what’s for tea. I have the memory of your hugs each day, be that as you’re heading off to bed, heading out the door, or just to say thank you when you’ve wrapped me around your little finger again. I have the memory of the days when you let me hold you for that little bit longer, when you rest your head on my shoulder and I know you will never be too old for a cuddle from your Mum. I have another year of knowing that you are happy and healthy and at the end of the day that’s all I could ever ask for.

So here’s to the last year of your teens, another twelve months of watching you grow, and another rollercoaster of emotions as I let you go. Maybe the biggest lesson I’ve learned this year is that although our time together is less, the moments we do spend together mean more. Here’s to more of those moments this coming year.

Happy 19th Birthday Lew.

We love you all the star in the sky,

Mum

xxx