TOT - Fatherhood (Ricoh)

((My Ricoh Gideonn went through a lot (what character doesn't?) as a soldier in Sabattann. Some of it bad (he ended up a paraplegic). Some of it good. He became a father. And wrote this little blurb.)

By morning. I promised Roan. By morning. I looked at her tear-streaked face, caressed her sweat-dampened hair and held her hand as she held our son. A pinch-faced, red and scowly imp with a head of black hair I have been assured will fall out. He'll be as bald as a tro'kk egg, our Johann. My Joh'nn. My son.

He is a foreign thing, this baby. I get to hold him, cradle him. I count 10 fingers and toes and know he's different. Not normal because we can communicate, he and I.

It's not talking, what we do. He's so new and needy. All he does is feel and want. He feels hungry, he wants his mother. He feels sleepy, he wants sleep and nothing else. He feels scared, he wants his mom.

Another thing we have in common, Joh'nn and I. We both need her.
 
My son was hungry and let the world know about it. He gathered great lungfuls of air and screamed his displeasure.

He doesn't form words yet. He feels. Feels hungry. Feels tired. Feels frustrated. Feels pain and fear. I realized early on, I'm not so different than him except for size and the ability to articulate my needs.
 
That was it. That was the moment my life changed. The event was bloody and sweaty. There was shouting and great pain. All the things that precipitate great life events.

And portents.
The seas boiled.
The suns burst.
A child cried, soft and frightened.
A child in my arms. New born.
Red-faced.
Scowling.

I do not have a poet's soul. I cannot put into words the perfection I saw in that eight-pound body. In those light swallowing eyes. In the crown of dark, fuzzy hair on his head.

Useless for me to try.

I am only his father. His mother might know how to describe our son.

Joh'nn, as I have always called him.
 
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