I was 26 when it dawned on me that I would physically never be able to have any more children – Donovan would be an only child.
We had been in Australia for a year and were struggling to manage with the never ending deluge of ‘window envelopes’ the postman would leave for us in the galvanized dust-bin with the cut-out slot in the lid, that we had shamelessly used as a mail box. Those invoices seemed to be the only official mail that ever arrived with any regularity. We had lined the bin with bricks so it was heavy and would stay put on the sand and limestone of our Nallabor Plain. I smile as I type this, for that is indeed what we used to call the massive sandpit that surrounded our first home in Australia. 68 Elderberry Drive - where little Donny would learn to read and in turn begin to teach me.
This did not however, stop me initially from feeling emotional every time I saw a pregnant mum or for indulging in the creative powers of my imagination when I was out at the Good Samaritan Op Shops where I used to buy our clothes. I often stopped by the $1.00 discounted racks with baby-wear and on two occasions actually bought little dresses for the phantom daughter I carried in my heart – only to end up feeling very silly and more than slightly forlorn when I got back home.
But time heals and I soon learned to smile through the comments of some relatives and friends, when they questioned my selfishness of not having another child to keep Donny company. I do not think they ever meant to be unkind but I remember once, at a church function being told by a lady I hardly knew “Why are you so vain about your figure? Don’t be so selfish, you should have another child to keep your son company.”I did not see why I had to defend myself by telling them the real reason I could not have another child. I was indeed fortunate to be blessed with a good figure but it completely threw me that these people thought so little of me because of it. I comforted myself with the secret awareness I had always felt about Donovan Michael - my beautiful little boy, whom I had conceived quite by accident in our seventh month of marriage. I was conscious of it from the time he was just 2 weeks old – my child was going to make a difference in this world.
Every mother believes her child is special, but Donovan was doing things which separated him from all the other children around him in ways that astounded us and the people closest to us who saw him on an almost daily basis. In his second week Donny was already creeping up the cradle we had inherited from Mabel, our sister-in-law. Our beloved godson Dustin had slept in it when he was an infant and so I was terribly sentimental about the cot, as I truly adored Dustin.Alan and I would put Donny down towards the bottom end of the cradle and when we would come back to check on him - in just half an hour he would be at the top end. Before we knew it he was trying to turn, and as a result, Donny was only able to sleep in that cot for just 3 short weeks, as it became too dangerous for us to leave him in it. I was unable to breast-feed and so we had him on the bottle. When he was still under a month, one day while sitting on my parents sofa singing to him as I fed him, I realised he was trying to hold the bottle, with his left hand. He was staring at me as he did so, but not in a way that I have seen other babies before or even after him do at that young age. I saw a wise mature soul and knew this left handed determined little baby would be ahead of his time in everything he undertook to learn and do – I was startled. God had given me a very unusual son.
in his stylishness and personality, decidedly eccentric and funny, a talented and sensitive songwriter and singer, one hell of a kitchen-god with the food he so beautifully creates, a writer, a dreamer and to quote (in an American accent) - a lecturer at his university … ‘Donovan’s a born film-maker.’ All these gifts and more he brings into his slight stature of just 5 feet 7 or 8 inches – my unusual son with the Number 2 haircut, beautiful hands and often dead-pan expression - never ceases to amaze me.When he was in primary school, at the start of each year he would be accused of engaging someone else to do his homework as he was producing work of a standard too high and too deep for his age. I remember laughing when his Year 3 teacher went to the extent of accusing me of being the culprit. I never once went in to settle issues with the school, I always told him, all he had to do was keep producing good work because I strongly felt it was important that he was aware and in control of his own powerful abilities and that he dared to work hard and be special.
Suddenly, in Year 4 the teachers finally come to realise they were dealing with a very different child. The feedback I received from a distant cousin who was then teaching at his school, was that he was often the topic of conversation among the teachers in the staff room because he had such an amazing mind. Donny graduated Year 7 taking out the Academic Achievement Award and winning a scholarship to high-school. He excelled through high school and in Year 12 as my brother-in-law, Keiron said after Donny’s graduation - “Donovan sapu all the awards.” (meaning: swept away with) Donny had his finger is just about every pie.
Since the age of 12, our son’s dream had been to pursue a career in law – but he soon realised the finer arts … that had once beckoned me … had been gently calling him since primary school. Just before his 21st birthday, as I was going through the box Nadia had given me many years ago, in which I have kept all his important records and stories – I discovered in hindsight how gifted an artist he had been all along.
His medium is electronic art and so it is not uncommon to see him ringing around trying to convince his group of eccentric and artistically inclined friends to be a part of all the strange and wonderfully imaginative projects he comes up with for his films and music. He has completed a demo album of clever original songs, save one which is a cover. His latest film is so excitingly filmed and edited, it’s surprised even Alan and I. Our Donovan who 5 years ago made his first film was he was just 17; a 55-minute tribute to Ed Wood’s world of bad sci-fi flicks – is on his way to fulfilling his dreams. 
At this point, I think I need to explain the title of this entry. It's very random, but you see, I was thinking about that question just today. As a child, Donny never demanded for anything while we were out shopping, he would instead look at me with his big quiet eyes, if we ever over-heard a child having a tantrum over coco-pops or a plastic toy. One day while buying his asthma medication at the chemist, he suddenly asked "Mummy ... can we afford jelly beans this week?" He was 3 years old. I looked down at him and I saw he was looking longingly at a little packet of jelly-beans. It was under a $1.00 but I did not have even 50 cents to spare that week. I looked up at the lady at the counter and she immediately read the look on my face. She turned to Donny and told him "What a good boy you are! I am going to give you this packet of jelly beans because I have never heard a little child ever ask for anything so sweetly in all the time I've worked here." I will never forget how very grateful I was to the lady for her kindness, or how proud I was of the happy little boy with the unopened packet of jelly beans in his hands, skipping out of the chemist as we made our way to find Alan who was paying for the groceries.
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