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The moments in my life when I've ached the most have been some of the most memorable. My muscles screaming and my lungs on fire as I climbed a volcano with two of my closest friends when we were 16 and on a real adventure without parents. The soreness after having given birth to the two most important little boys in my world. The sadness in my heart after losing my dad, a few friends and a number of family members. My sleepy head and my blistered dancing feet after our wedding.
Of course, there have been many forgettable aches along the way and those are annoying, troublesome, irritating. The big aches, however, the ones to remember - they're not bad. There is such a thing as a good ache. This is something I try and fail to explain to my four-year-old. He suffered from bad headaches when he was about 3 and he now often wakes screaming with growing pains. Those headaches, they were bad. But growing pains, they're good! They may not feel like it but they mean you're a healthy, growing boy who's going to tower over his mum one day. They are an ache full of promise, of the man you will one day be. That thought, in turn, makes my heart ache - ache for the baby he was, ache with sadness of losing my grip over him, having to let go a tiny little bit each day. That too, is a good ache.
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