All the Colours of 14

Every year when I write your birthday blog, your room seems to be a feature of some sort. And I only noticed it this year and thought to myself, ohhh I need to change that. A birthday blog shouldn’t always involve your bedroom like it’s a recurring supporting character.

And then I thought, how could it not?

Because your room isn’t just a room. It’s a hub of creative activity, this is the place where it all originates, the place where ideas are born, built, painted, plotted, and occasionally left in a suspicious pile “for later”.

So: we open the door and, don’t run away yet; yes, there are mountains of clothes, haphazardly balanced books, armies of orcs, a host of sharp lego pieces/sprews/god-knows-what on the floor for you to stealthily navigate across. But if you look past all of that chaos and ignore the weird plant thing you are trying to keep alive and what do we really see?

Colour.
Explosions of it.
Colours that clash and somehow blend anyway, married together by sheer ‘Sonny will’. Loud and beautiful and bold, so full of life and energy and hope. It’s like you have so many colours inside you that they don’t stay contained; they radiate out. It’s literally you on the walls, the pages, the figures. Your joy, your hope, your dreams, spilling over the edges of everything.

And then there’s you, as a person.

This boy, this young man, who fills our days with all the details of his day… yet still somehow misses out the important point he was trying to make.
You’ll tell a story that includes the weather, a snack review, a side quest, and a dramatic reenactment… and I’ll be like, “So… what happened?”
And you’ll go: “OH YEAH. That.”

You throw yourself into life with your whole heart. You dazzle around other people. You need people- conversation, connection, laughter- because you genuinely want others to feel happy too. You have this innocence, this belief that people are good, because how could they not? Kindness is your default setting. Anything else is just… confusing.

And this year has felt big. Like something is building. Like we’re standing on the edge of change, even if we can’t quite see what shape it’s going to take yet.

It’s your last year of school at your current campus- your safe haven, your beacon of light when we needed it most- leading us toward a new direction with new challenges and new growth. I don’t know exactly what’s coming… but I know you’ll meet it the way you meet everything: fully, bravely, brightly.

And then there’s the way you’ve shown up this year.

Drama club: you walked in like the “fresh air” they didn’t know they were looking for. I still remember being told how your enthusiasm, your spirit, and (of course) your imagination were exactly what that class needed. That’s you, Sonny. You join something and the whole place feels more alive.

Book club too- your input so thoughtful and surprisingly mature, but also unmistakably you: creative swirls of thought, seeing things from a totally different plane, adding colour to conversations other people didn’t even realise were a bit beige.

You are raucously funny. Beautifully eloquent. A social butterfly who wants to be part of every group, every conversation, every moment. You see life and you throw yourself into it- into its sticky mist, the joy and the overwhelm and the everything. You embrace it all. You feel it all.

Sometimes it becomes too much- because you feel so deeply- but oh, to feel emotions the way you do is to live a life full of colour and hope and joy.

You, my boy, are a wonder.

You are all the colours and more.
You aren’t afraid of brightness. You don’t hold back. The richer, the louder, the more alive- that’s what you choose, because it matches what’s inside you.

And I just want you to know this:

I can’t even fully grasp all the wonders you possess. It’s too bright for some of us to take in all at once. But I’m watching you become more and more yourself, and it is a privilege.

So happy birthday, my beautiful boy.

Let’s go.
The world is waiting for you.

Is it ready?

Who knows?

But I do know you will be the fresh air it sorely needs.

And I love you- more than I can fit into a blog- every single day.

xx