The little candle
He came out covered in wax. He was 4 weeks early, a tiny ball of life burning so brightly. At a concert the night before my wife had reported him kicking inside her, dancing to the music; by morning he’d danced his way into a midwife’s hands. Then, we got trapped in the hospital system, a bit of jaundice, some feeding troubles, and lots of learning; how to hold, how to change a nappy and what it meant to be a Dad. We just couldn’t work out what we needed to do to get off that ward. I have the strongest memory of sitting on that hard plastic chair in the corridor quietly holding my beautiful boy in my arms while my wife slept. He was barely an armful and seemed so peaceful, a rare moment of stillness for a boy who, a few nights before had kicked his way into being. I cried awkward tears of frustration but also joy and love. Three feelings that have become my constant companions ever since.