I was wobbling back from somewhere and hot and tired,
I’d treated myself to a cab. It was not far at all, but far enough for this
exchange…
Taxi driver: Wow. How long have you got to go?
Me: Not long now.
Taxi driver: What’s your due date then?
Me: 23rd August
Taxi driver: That’s my birthday.
Me: Really. Well if it’s a boy, we could call it after
you, what’s your name?
Taxi driver: Barry.
Me: Then again, maybe not.
I paid up and shut the door, tickled pink.
xxxxxxxxx
I convinced myself it was a boy. Well if it was going
to weigh in at over nine-pound; it had to be. It would be great to have a boy
for Simon’s sake - pass on the name and all that. I chose not to listen to the
distant voice inside my head that reminded me I wanted a girl.
The days went by and we drew ever closer to the
highlighted date in the diary.
23 Aug 2008 = our baby due.
And then... we bypassed it.
No comments:
Post a Comment