Fearless Symmetry

Some time back I made passing mention of good news that would remain undisclosed until the proper time. At last the truth can be revealed! Perhaps one or two people whose memories stretch back far enough may understand why I was reluctant to publish it at the time, but that doesn't matter now.

In the early hours of this morning, following a very long and torturous labour, my baby sister Dorigen's firstborn child was delivered by Cæsarian section. The debate about naming the little tyke rages on, but in the meantime, please bid welcome to (as the good folks at University College Hospital have it) Baby Caldwell Ford, my nephew and godson.

There's a pleasing symmetry of dates here: last year, Ian's nephew and godson Ilan was born on a Sunday two days before my birthday; now mine is born on the Sunday two days before his. Of course this means nothing, except that both of us have been thoroughly upstaged.

I don't much like children, on the whole. Ian told me it would be different with my own kin and, though I cling to my scepticism about various aspects of evolutionary psychology, it looks like he may have been right. I can't deny that holding my nephew in my arms awakened some fiercely loving and protective instincts. Not that those have ever been dormant -- I have a longstanding tendency to adopt people, to consider the ones I love as treasures to be fought for and defended to the death, an affectional family that remains indestructible -- but that has typically applied to grownups before now. Children just weren't especially interesting to me.

They still aren't, to be honest. But I find myself ready to fight Baby Caldwell Ford's corner to the last.

I sat and murmured this to him, while everyone else went on about their business around us. Told him all sorts of things that couldn't possibly register, looked into violet eyes that haven't yet found their true colour and made promises about his future I cannot hope to guarantee but to which I commit nonetheless. Promises and -- perhaps -- challenges. I know his mother and father, his maternal grandmother and grandfather, and I know that -- one way or another -- he can be a hero.

One way or another -- perhaps so tiny that no-one else will ever recognise it, that doesn't matter -- this boy will change the world.

Don't we all?
Posted by matt at July 31, 2005 07:34 PM