Fatherhood
My genes and hers, his or her blood already irrigating his or her not-yet-born body. Outward moving arms and legs, stretching the womb, itching the young mom. Her belly doesn't ache yet, the swelling is just beginning, tiny tiny bump of life under her skin.
The revolution will occur in early November, when the leaves of autumn have already covered the ground with their brown and orange paintings. We will become more than just a married couple, our engagement, our commitment to life strengthened, our bond shared in blood. The destiny of that child is already resting in our palms, it is our role to raise it to the best, lift its spirit and experience of life to the maximum of what we'll be able to offer.
That same baby not yet born into the world will celebrate its 18th birthday in 2027. It sounds insane, so far away, too far. Sounds like a sci-fi movie with a one-eyed robot shooting at runaways with a laser gun. but for as long as we know, things might not be so different then, OK kids might all have an I-Phone 12G for the 5th birthday and free wi-fi Internet will be accessible throughout the world. War will have killed thousands of billions of people, Africa will be a gigantic desert full of landmines and amputees. The Amazon forest will be taught to kids through books and old DVDs. Holographic teachers will teach English as a common and unique language and philosophy won't ring a bell to anyone under 60 years old.
I'll be 46, Caroline 43. The kids will roam our floating house with their beer bottles - if glass bottles are still in use, who knows, we would still be 30 years away from retirement and wishing holidays would come faster so that we could hop onto the next Moon shuttle and relax there for a day or two.
Orwell wasn't so wrong after all, the world is in the hands of Men. We'll see and they'll see what will have become of it in 2027...
Little thing in there, hear me, it's your daddy speaking. Your ears are not yet formed but I'm pretty sure you get what I say. "Beware, beware. Enjoy your life but beware". I bend over her belly button: "Love you, little thing, love you like hell. Be well."
I'll be 46, Caroline 43. The kids will roam our floating house with their beer bottles - if glass bottles are still in use, who knows, we would still be 30 years away from retirement and wishing holidays would come faster so that we could hop onto the next Moon shuttle and relax there for a day or two.
Orwell wasn't so wrong after all, the world is in the hands of Men. We'll see and they'll see what will have become of it in 2027...
Little thing in there, hear me, it's your daddy speaking. Your ears are not yet formed but I'm pretty sure you get what I say. "Beware, beware. Enjoy your life but beware". I bend over her belly button: "Love you, little thing, love you like hell. Be well."