Sunday, 21 August 2011

The freckle

Travis has a full stop at the base of his left thumb. It’s like a tiny volcanic island lost in the vastness of the ocean. I can stare at it for ages.

Okay, it’s just a freckle – but I’ve spent many long minutes gazing at it when he’s asleep. (I realise the amount of blog posts where I admit to staring at my child while he sleeps is adding up.)

What makes this freckle so special is that it’s a genetic stamp in my family.

While we do have some speckle-cheecked branches in the family tree, there is one lineage in particular: dark of hair and eyes, short build, skin that’s not quite olive...

... dotted with these peculiar, lonely, long-distance freckles.

I have one on my ring finger. And another in the crook of my arm. And two freckles that line up perfectly when I press my thighs together.

Now Travis has them. So does his mother. And so does his grandfather. As did his great-grandmother. And no doubt one of his great-great grandparents...

Generations connected by these odd freckles, like a game of join-the-dot.

And while I stare at the neat, chocolate-brown spot at the base of the Lionheart’s left thumb while he sleeps, it comforts me to know that Travis is a part of a long history of amazing, fascinating, accomplished relatives – because I’m so very used to thinking of him as being... outside of the circle, you know?


Thanks for sharing, Lionheart readers. ROAR!