Floods of water and gratitude

    Just before the Australia day floods a young girl gave birth to a baby boy. No, not these Australia Day floods. The big ones, back in 1974, when the unbelievable happened. The river flooded to heights that we couldn't imagine, but were seen on our TV screen. We were stranded behind flooded rivers and broken bridges and it was days before I could join a mud army. One day, sifting through one china cabinet, redeeming crystal glasses from gooey, stinking mud, was enough for the smell to permeate my memory for ever!
    But I digress. Back then in 1974, during the rain that always precedes a flood, a young girl birthed a gorgeous child. And I will be forever grateful. I imagine she was overwhelmed and frightened by the experience. I hope her home wasn't flooded after she walked away and left her baby for us to raise.
    Over the years as we've watched this baby grow and develop into a strong well balanced young man and then embrace the challenges of fatherhood, I've often thought of her. Does she think of him, her son? Does she think of me?
    I know she is lovely. Her son is a wonderful man. He carries her DNA. I also know she requested her little boy be placed in a Christian home. She cared enough to do the best she could do for him.
I wonder...where she is now? Does she have other children? Is she a grandmother?
I'd like to meet her, to say thank you, to hear her story and give her a hug. But our common son chooses not to find her, and that is his choice. He claims I'm his mother so why should he go looking for another. As I said he's a lovely son.
    But as the deluge of water fell on our state at the time of his birthday, the memories flooded back. I remember again a young girl, labouring on my behalf, bringing me years and years of love, joy and pleasure.
    If you are listening, please accept my gratitude.