Bearing witness as a reporter and mother at Anzac Day in Bowral

I asked him if he understood the meaning of Anzac Day. He said: "Mum it's so we can remember those who fought for us."

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Aged six, this was his first time marching in the Bowral main parade and he was wide eyed and brimming with excitement. It took me back some 30 years, when I was the one wearing that same uniform and also brimming with excitement.

I was proud to wear my grandfather's medals and I loved the spectacle of the day. Watching my son, I can see that the Anzac tradition holds strong. He is just as taken with it as I once was.

Thousands of people lined the streets and yet, it was still a local event. Parents of the kids I went to school with stopped for a chat, another friend waved up at me as I took photos from the balcony of the Royal Hotel.

The only thing missing for me was my grandparents. But then I realised that time has moved on, and standing beside me was my mother, just as proudly watching her grandson march by.

I'm sure there's a metaphor somewhere in the fact that on Anzac Day my boy was echoing my past. It was a brief moment in time, and one that I could not be more grateful for.

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