Preface

I heard the cry over the monitor and rose. She looked at me, half asleep and asked, “Going yourself?”

I smiled, “Yeah, you’re tired, get some rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

“You sure? I can go. Just because Tracy has the day off doesn’t mean you need to.”

“I don’t exactly get to spend a lot of time with my son.” Technically, the emphasis was misplaced. He is our son. I’m just frustrated, relax John.

She answered knowingly, “Ok, but hurry back.” Since the moment I had met her she had been the one person who I could keep nothing from. She could just look at me and see right into me, not through me but into me. I shuddered instinctively at the thought of actually being seen.

I walked from my bedroom to my son’s room and picked him from his cot. I felt a renewed sense of warmth in my chest. Warmth I never thought I would feel. I checked the chart on the wall and saw he had just been fed, and then checked the other likely sources of discomfort. After the problem was rectified, I placed him back in his cot and sat in the leather chair next to it. I stared at my son and smiled instinctively, “Perhaps a story. Where to begin? ‘The boy ducked’, no that should be later, ‘The library?’, nah ... Oooh The rose garden ... No. I know exactly where our story should begin.”