“…the day is cold, and dark, and dreary; it rains, and the wind is never weary; the vine still clings to the mouldering wall, but at every gust the dead leaves fall, and the day is dark and dreary.”
Oh, such creeping melancholy! Were that my disposition was not so easily swept into the surrounding climes!
Today I awoke to the plitter-pat drip-dropping of a languid easy rainfall. The morning was still dark, and so I pulled the blankets tighter and snuggled close to my warm, soft-breathing infant son.
Liam murmured for a moment and fell back into his quiet and rhythmic breaths. Soon, I was asleep again.
My beloved, who arises earlier even than the crowing cock of sunrise, crept around the house in beginning the preparations for the day. When the violet night paled into an indigo of morning, she starts the dance of a new day.
Breakfast and warm drinks. Shirts pulled over yawning heads. The warbling yammer of the radio. A line of wee-folk at the children’s bathroom.
I slept in.
Though well-awake, I clung fast into the departed night, squinted out the encroaching light of a new day to repose with my sweet son.
Internally, what began as the slight tugging of conscience became a thunderous ovation in my ears. The low voice in every man’s chest that tells him to get up in the morning and get things started, soon grew into a bellowing alarm… alarm that I was fast approaching a “point of no return” which would disrupt the rest of my day, and possibly that of those of my household
Eventually, I could not pretend anymore. I opened my eyes to see Liam’s cornflower eyes gazing at me quizzically, his mouth a slight smile as if to say: “It’s about time you got up.”
I pretended, in a strange and fanciful way, that this drumbeat (which I had tried to suppress) had so thundered in me that it roused my little son out of his child’s slumber.
Given over to this, I wondered at the things in a man’s life that he tries to communicate to his sons… of the battles that he fights which will also come to his children. For they possess the same curse, the same weakness.
A dark inheritance indeed.