Jackie McGregor: The little book of wisdom: Trying to put old heads on young shoulders

It contained an inspirational thought for each day of the year. My mother had given it to me on my twenty-first birthday, shortly before she was due to have open heart surgery.

I think it was her way of leaving me a little guide for life just in case anything should happen to her.

Fortunately, all went well and she lived for years after. That little book remained on my bedside table and reading its daily message became my nightly ritual, year after year.

Eventually, dog-eared and falling apart, I stored it safely in a box of mementos.

I discovered it again while packing away summer clothes for the beginning of autumn.

Finding it felt deeply poignant, a small reminder of time passing, just as the leaves were starting to change colour.

I have reached a stage in life where it feels like a new season for me too.

Opening it, I caught my breath as I saw my mother’s handwriting in the front cover.

“To my darling daughter, I love you with all my heart. Happy twenty-first birthday, Mum.”

The years seemed to fall away as I traced her writing with my finger.

My son is approaching his twenty-first, and like my own mother, I find myself trying to give him advice, wanting to shield him from every bump in the road.

Parenthood is a helpless kind of love, anything that hurts them hurts you ten times more.

It’s like your peace of mind takes on human form, and you must watch it walk out in the world, unprotected.

As parents, we try to offer advice to stop them getting hurt, but it’s mostly useless.

My mum’s favourite saying was, “you can’t put an old head on young shoulders,” and that was her one piece of wisdom that truly stuck with me, because it was the absolute truth.

She hoped the book’s daily entries would prepare me for what lay ahead, but nothing could.

You can’t learn life’s lessons from a printed page.

You learn them from going through the betrayals, the broken dreams, the heartaches caused by loved ones, and those devastating times when you think you are completely broken, then discover much to your own amazement that, you’re not.

Those raw, painful moments are where we build resilience.

They teach us to erect boundaries, to protect ourselves, and give us emotional intelligence that nothing other than surviving struggles could provide.

Mum couldn’t spare me from life’s hurts, just as I can’t spare my son from his. She had to earn her wisdom through her own heartbreaks, as I had to from mine.

I see my son with the same desire I had to rush into the future. He has no idea how quickly it will come.

Back then, I was impatient to mature, not realising how precious those youthful days really were.

How I’d love to step back into them, just for a few stolen moments.

I can still see myself on my twenty-first birthday, holding that shiny new book in my hands, dreaming of the future.

Now, older and wiser, I clasp that dog-eared gift, dreaming of the past.