I first heard you through the ether, from an empty house over 200 miles away… the sudden and remarkable sound of a newborn, gurgling gently in your mother’s lap.
I first heard you cry as I paced up and down the pavement on Byram Street, whilst she began a third lunchtime circuit pushing your pram around the Highgate streets… the sound of you still not settling despite her best efforts.
A week ago I heard you happily leaping about your home and expressing an opinion about what should go with your cheese on toast, whilst she rattled the grill and kept the phone to her ear and kept you in sight.
“She’s lively, isn’t she?” I said… “I wonder where she gets that from…” Your mother laughed.
That day I heard you sing for the fist time: “Twinkle, twinkle little star… How I wonder what you are…”
Today you are still just a voice to me. A little voice on the end of the phone that has already become a person, who I am yet to meet. I don’t know what you look like. And yet you have already cast a light into my life.