Thursday, 11 December 2014

I held a god in my arms.

I had a dream last night that I had a child. I looked into this newborn baby's face to find my own, but different. I picked out the similarities, the parts of me. He had darker skin, but his nose and his mouth were mine. I looked at him and knew that the world was different for me now. Everything I loved and held dear was now a distant second.  Everything changed in that moment. I was me, I was the child and I was my own father holding me and looking at myself. I cradled the child softly.

Later, the child talked to me, it held conversation. After a few moments I knew this was odd. I asked him how he could talk. “I get my smarts from my mother.” he said. “I get my crudeness from you”.

I knew, as I held the child again, that he was fine and ready and needed less of my help and protection. Then I thought about all of the things I held dear before his birth and realised they meant far less to me now.