www.thebermudian.com 40 | THE BERMUDIAN
I don’t know how to begin. I’ve never written a diary before, except
for that one time in primary school. Ms. Hassell had recommended we
keep one for the summer. I got through six day’s worth.
It is, I admit, somewhat surprising that I’ve carved out a career as a
writer after such a delightfully inauspicious beginning.
This time, it was my mother’s idea. She made it clear to me that this
new chapter of our lives will go by so fast that it’s important to keep
track of it. “Memories and moments will get lost in the blur that is life,”
she had said. I’m taking her word for it.
It may simply be procrastination, but does the reason really matter?
As long as I start it. If I can’t figure out how to complete my book, at
least I should be able to start something else; a day, a diary, a life.
Today, my new paper-filled friend, was day one. The first day with
our son, Cayden.
I’m not sure how long I stood and watched the two of them this
morning. As I leaned against the doorframe of Cayden’s room in that
mystic few minutes between nighttime and daytime, I thought about
how weird it was to call it that; “Cayden’s room”. No longer the spare
room, or the guest room, or the “what are we going to do with that
James didn’t know I was there. He hadn’t gone to sleep, I know. I felt
him ease his way out of our bed around 4 a.m. and here it was, now six.
I watched the two of them for almost half an hour in silence, or
at least what I hoped was silence. He must have eventually realised I
was there but never said a word. Sitting on the floor, one hand silently
grasping the bars of the crib, the other propping himself up to a perfect
eye level with his new son; his legs spread out in front of him, almost
mirroring those of Cayden’s. Cayden played his part; peacefully asleep,
oblivious as to what his presence means to us.
James’ legs are so long. I remember them being one of the first things
I noticed about him as he fruitlessly tried to dance with the bartender
all those years ago. I wondered if, even without any biological connection, Cayden would somehow inherit those legs and, I recall giggling
silently as I thought about it, not inherit those dance moves.
That was ages ago now. That first morning, the both of us months
into our individual backpacking adventures, we watched the sun calmly
drift over the skyscrapers of the muddy Yarra River in Melbourne. I
think we both wanted to believe that it was the beginning of many
mornings just like that. It was so still and untouched. As light reached
the crevices remaining from the previous night, weary and cautious, I
found someone next to me who would be a part of my life forever.
This morning was the first one since then holding the same revelation.
It couldn’t have been easy for James. It was no more than three weeks
SON RISE; DAY ONE BY NATHAN SWAN