Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.
Will talks of nothing but the great wonders of this son we all have yet to meet. But now in this sudden silence, Ana comes out and whispers to me, “it’s a girl.” Then a baby cries. Will pushes his way in and all of us follow.
Here is Layla, tiny as she is in her husband’s huge arms, and in her arms, is this little red infant wrapped in the familiar wool blanket of this family.
Maybe, in all my explaining a baby to him, warning him of the mother’s screams and the messiness, the howls and the slime, which he already knew from just noticing pigs and other critters, but I’d forgotten to mention that the baby would be a beautiful little human being. And now Will can’t stop looking and touching the tiny little hands. She opens her crinkly eye lids and sets her round-eyed gaze first on Layla and then on Will.
“Her eyes are already opened!” Will exclaims, “and she is only a newborn. Already she looks at us! Look! She sees us! She is highly exceptional for a baby!”
Layla says what we all notice, “She has your red hair, Will.”
Ana suggests the baby might be hungry. Will gropes for the baby feeding jar he had in his hand when he came in. And Ana assures him he needs to save that for later, when it is his turn to feed the baby.
“Right now, Layla will do it.” Ana explains as the baby easily finds the nipple.
Hannah issues orders, “Papa and Brandell, outside! Now!”
Will tells Layla, “I guess we men have to leave.”
Layla answers, “But not you, Will, you are the papa now.”
Outside now, Brandell is still nursing his swelling eye. “So, Papa, you spent a week planting his crops, gifting him the family baby things, and still it takes a baby to civilize him.”
“With the help of God,” I can only hope. “We all know things won’t always be bliss. I only hope knowing he has family can offer them both useful options when they start to feel everything isn’t so perfect after all.”
“Perfect?” questions Brandell. “What I know of perfect in art is to explore every possibility of imperfect and finally just say ‘it is good’ anyway, and take a rest.”
“That seems to be the Creator’s standard of perfection. So why is it we imperfect human kinds imagine a perfection that is always out of reach?”
(Continues, Tuesday, May 21, 2024)
Lazarus Ink 