Oh it's such a...

I half expected him to turn round. He was giggling uncontrollably as the elevator doors closed smoothly behind him, immediately immersed in the familiarity of his school. I stood a little longer, watching, waiting for some recognition of its enormity. But that moment did not come. My extraordinary became his ordinary. Driving on the Pacific Coast Highway, Wuthering Heights was playing on Absolute Radio on my phone. Whether it happens to be my favourite song of all time because it is with all its beautifully haunting passion igniting, or because of the Brontes and their family home we visited as children out on the Moors, a visit which served to deepen my fascination and mystique for both their writings and the lives they lead. Or perhaps it is because at aged ten I sang my heart out into the mike on stage to the song: It's hard to say. But right then it became catharsis for the lifting of a weight. The power of a song. And the power of a little boy's human spirit and utter determination.

That this morning should be followed by hours and hours of this, Reuben's surgical site protected by his bathing cap, well, what can I say of today. Just 5 days after checking out of intensive care, he was in heaven. Really...