Counting

I'm constantly counting. I suppose in a way I always have. Counting down the months, weeks, days of my pregnancies. Counting down the milestones and the date that they happened. First smile, first laugh, first tooth. The list is endless.
With Kieron, he cheated: he arrived 12 days early which threw my counting out of sync. By the time he was 12 days old, he was due to be born. So in a way I had an extra 12 days with him.
Kieron rolled over early, hardly crawled, was walking round furniture at 8 months and off to explore his world. Kieron climbed anything and everything. Over stair gates, onto wardrobes via clambering onto my bed first, kitchen cupboards and back gates. Still I counted. Only this time I was counting the hours until Kieron's bedtime so that I could relax at last. It didn't happen. Kieron was a voracious feeder, to the extent that he slept in my bed and went for self-service during the night, often not even waking me.
When Kieron was 4 months old, for financial reasons, I had to return to work. I counted the hours until I could collect him from either my dad or the child minder. I counted off the miles as I traversed Kent and London daily. I counted off M25 junctions, knowing that as the numbers grew larger, the nearer I was to home.
I counted his scrapes and bruises. I counted his stitches after running into a chair while playing with his older brother. I counted more stitches after he decided to headbutt his brother's scooter. I counted teeth for the tooth fairy and carrots for Rudolph. Eggs for the Easter Bunny and goodie bags for birthday parties.
Tomato seeds for transplanting with Kieron's help. Shells on the beach and flakes in a 99. Foot steps taken on the way to school. Banana cars and minis with associated 'mini pinch, mini punch'.
Christmas cards to write to school friends and presents at Christmas, so each of my children had an equal amount to open. Days until school holidays, days until school term starts. Days until birthdays, Christmas, new schools.
I always held the belief that I would count 18th birthday cards, 21st birthday cards, wedding invitations, birth of grand child cards. I didn't think that I would count children waiting outside the crematorium for their friend. I didn't think that I would count the dozens and dozens of cards and letters sent to me by Kieron's friends. I didn't think that I would count off the days, knowing that with each one that passes I am that much closer to being with Kieron again. But I did and I do. 443.