The room is dark, barely lit by the low, amber lighting penetrating from the hallway. The blue curtains are drawn tight and outside the rain lashes down in squally gusts,
But inside it is warm and still and silent, and you are lying there serene, precious, everything I ever wanted.
I am looking at you. You are finally sleeping soundly, curled up in a tangle of super hero emblazoned sheets, cuddly toys and books; the usual detritus of a nightly struggle with sleep.
I am looking at you, my eyes tracing the contours of your nose and chin.
Your skin is soft and clear in this beguiling half-light. My boy, such perfection, such beautiful perfection.
The rain hammers on the window. Through the curtains I see the sulphurous blur of the street light outside, wind rattled tree branches mottling the glow.
It is a reminder of the outside world, and it forces itself into my reverie. The darkness and the light.
What future for you my boy? What legacy for you, my beautiful child?
There will be heartbreak and sorrow and fear and pain to come for you. This darkness lurks on the horizon, for it is a certainty of life.
The savagery of humanity. My boy, do not be fooled by the veneer of civility, for beneath the shine there lies snarling fangs.
And my boy, there will be times when you will need to bare your teeth too. When you do, make sure you do so for truth, for love and that your cause is just and proportionate.
I am breathing in your beauty, a strong emotion somewhere between contentment and euphoria breaking over me. This feeling, almost overwhelming at your birth, hasn’t waned.
It is a connection unlike any other; deep, primal, urgent.
I am moving a lock of hair off your forehead. You stir but don’t wake. I nuzzle in and inhale the sweet earthy smell of you.
My boy, we have made it through the day. It is a filthy night, cold and wet outside.
But in here there is the soft cocoon of profound love, as old as the universe itself, holding back the night, bridging the void.
And, for now, pushing the darkness back to its dank edges.