Prologue

Stories and personal journeys have long been important to me. There have been many, but one in particular that haunts me, that have been building within for some time now. Although I have taken to my blog on occasion to lay my thoughts there, it has somehow never left me feeling settled. Perhaps that can be attributed to how much has been left unsaid. Inspiration has been known to strike at odd hours and lead me to catharsis once my thoughts have been spent and my soul has been laid bare. I write not for the fanfare or the accolades. While it is nice to receive praise for my efforts, I have always longed to move beyond my blog and write lengthier pieces to be shared with a larger audience. Admittedly, My Cup of Tea has a teeny readership. But that's okay. I love sharing my thoughts here and will continue to do so.

In old notebooks, journals, and files emailed to myself through the years, I have started many pieces in hopes that the characters would develop further and live the lives they were meant to. I recall numerous times having expressed my feelings of falling short in my novel developments to the brilliant Ngaire Genge, my former editor and trusted mentor at the defunct 53 North news magazine. Falling short of character and plot development pages and sometimes paragraphs in, she encouraged me to keep writing and to see the worth of my words. Perhaps my writings were meant to be a collection of short stories? Anyhow, it disappoints me still that I never saw the development of a larger volume of my work through. Here I am, yet again, attempting to see this come to fruition. I need to write for myself again that moves me beyond the requirements for academia. I need to write to find a release. I need to write to bring peace to my tired soul. I believe, albeit questioningly, that non-fiction is where it is at for me? If it takes shape as I envision, it will be a joint effort with Liam.

What follows is the Prologue to the story I will continue to pursue. Hopefully, the words will not fail.  The working title at the moment, though admittedly a little bland, is "Perspectives: A Mother and Son's Journey".

 

Prologue

On a frigid February afternoon in 2022 (Friday the 25th to be exact), I was occupying my favourite spot at the local café as I have been known to do when I need to clear my head and write. Perched on a stool by the window, my vantage point allowed me to alternate between gazing at the words that were taking shape on the screen in front of me to the frosty landscape beyond the window pane. While making my way through the last edits of a writing piece I needed to get through - along with alternating sips from the delicious mug of hot and steaming tea - a chime notified me of a new email message. It was from my online classroom telling me that Liam, my seventeen-year-old, had submitted his overdue personal monologue for Drama class. Once I had finished reading through a fine mist of tears while struggling to breathe past the lump in my throat, I picked up my phone to message him how powerfully he writes about his experiences. While he has admittedly struggled to develop topics for some of the more creative pieces in his classes, he does it well when he puts his mind to it and allows the words to flow from his heart. When I wrote to him and told him how effective it is when he writes honestly and openly about his experiences, I mentioned in passing that we could potentially have a book on our hands. We then decided that if I delved into my perspectives too, it could serve as a guide, a cautionary tale, and a story of hope. What will unfold in the chapters to come will be a balance of reflections, poetry, and excerpts from journals.

This journey has offered many moments for Liam, his father, sister, and I to take pause, wonder, and maybe even utter a “what next?” aloud. (If I am going for complete and unabashed honesty here, my lamentations would have a few expletives mixed in.) The phone call that came on Wednesday, October 9, 2019, altered the course of my son’s adolescence and, in turn, the lives of his family. Up until that point, age thirteen onwards had been riddled with the typical issues and moments of teenaged angst. However, once the layers of his story were peeled back with the help of counselling, medication, anguished tears, and existence in a tense and sad house, I know at least this much is true: never doubt any inkling that something is amiss with your child. The ever-present knots in the stomach, the nagging suspicions, the unanswered questions were all part of something beyond my grasp at that time. If this were all a part of His plan, I would like to know why. It is a fact that I continue to struggle with.

Life has been filled with twists and turns that have left me feeling shaken, glimpse moments of pure joy, or leave me feeling at a complete loss. I know I can say the same for Liam, but I will not speak for him. As this narrative develops and unfolds, his voice will be a strong presence and provide a necessary balance with his writings and reflections.