(A short story)
We walk slowly, the breath of the wind in our lungs, taking slow, meaningful sips of life. And around us it is as if nature herself has parted her dress of green so that we might, one last time, walk the path of joy.
His hand is in mine, small, vulnerable, and yet so incredibly strong. I hold it as a father does, as one who wants to keep that which he must eventually let go. But not yet, not just yet.
I had worried only months earlier, had condemned myself to a thousand sleepless nights. Did I love enough? Was my love strong enough? Was there something I was doing, even something small, that was not good enough, not so pure that I would be worthy of my small and perfect blessing. When I was given him I wanted nothing more than to prove how worthy I was of the gift. And now I realize, only seconds away from the appending fate, that I will never really be worthy. And that was never the point in the first place.
An old prophet’s words ring like the cymbal of truth in my heart, “You have what you have, and then it goes. The only point to it all is to learn to love it, and then to learn to mourn it, but without regrets.”
He looks up at me then, a perfect smile dancing in his ocean eyes. I shall always see him this way, perfect. Does he know how deep my betrayal will be? How bitter? Does he know that his daddy who he thinks is perfect cannot protect him?
I curse the world and the hand it’s dealt me.
“Is this the place, Daddy?”
My steps slow. I ache. I feel as though I’ve been walking for so long, so unbearable long, and now I haven’t even the strength to stand.
I drop to one knee, still holding his hand. He looks down at me with a crooked frown, mild concern in his big eyes, love still etched in the features of his face. I take a finger and trace the structure of his nose, the line of his mouth, his brows, remembering, memorizing.
“I have something for you” I whisper, and I reach beneath my robe. My fingers close around the amulet, It’s crude shape familiar in my hand.
“I made this for you,” My voice sounds thick to my ears and I clear my throat. “See,” I hold up the amulet, “It’s a lion.”
He eyes it in solemn wonder, and I place the chain around his neck, pressing the amulet into his tiny hand, “A lion,” I whisper, “A mighty lion. As will you be someday”.
I watch those strange eyes contemplate what I have said. I have always marveled at the mystery of emotion and how it flows within him. He has such an odd way about it. I have never understood. Now he looks at me, and he furrows his tiny brow, and he’s wondering I think.
“But I am to be a dove Daddy, so you have told me. I am to be pure and white.”
I grab his perfect hand, and I take his finger and I trace the amulet with it. I want him to remember. I want him to know.
“You are a lion now,” I say softly, “The dove has flown, and the lion awakens. Lion’s roar. You will roar someday.”
He seems confused, or perhaps he does understand and it is only I who is confused. He smiles and I smile with him.
Let us smile then. It is good I think, this peace we both feel. It will not last for me, but it is good.
And then I hear the caw, the first, and the second, and on the last I feel the tear flee my eye.
“We must begin what has been set in motion”.
He nods, as though understanding. Does he understand? I wonder…
The bird lands before me. His Ruby eyes blink, twice.
What a stupid animal, I think, So many perfect and wonderful things that have been created, and then there is you. Such pity I have for you, you stupid creature.
The bird seems to contemplate me before it takes wing again.
I sigh and turn back to my son. He smiles up at me. “You know Daddy,” he says, “I think I am ready”.
I should have tears now. But I don’t. I just stare at him numbly. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t think I could say anything even if I knew what to. So I just grasp his hand and nod. And inside my heart weeps. It weeps for all that was and will never be, and all that will be that there never was before.