The Dawn of Creation

Noah’s mother, Delilah, knocked softly on Noah’s door.
“I’m writing, Ma.”
“I’ll be very quiet.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“I brought a pot of tea.”
Noah opened the door and said, “You could just give me the tea.”
“Son, please just let me sit. It’s not my fault, you know.”
“It was never your fault. I just…”
“Good then.” She slipped into the room through the narrow opening and sat on the narrow bed by Noah’s desk (that was really just a folding wooden tray) and poured the tea quickly, just as quickly as she could without spilling it.
Noah nodded and sighed and sat back down. In front of him was his diary, or rather his grandmother’s diary that he had inherited and now and again would continue to finish. Outside the dormer window, a winter storm howled and hurled snowflakes against the panes. “Please just don’t…”
“Not a word,” said Delilah. She spoke in a whisper, with her head slightly turned and bowed, as if she wasn’t there.
Noah picked up the pen and, after a moment during which his train of thought got back on track, continued writing.
“Daddy Mac said, and Ma Bertie recorded it, that we should share pleasure and steal sorrow. That’s been a hard one for me. For me, pleasure’s not easy to come by, and I’ve enough of the other thing I sure don’t want any more. But he was a deep old file, and she knew it, and now I’ve got to know it.”
His mother pushed his cup closer to him. “It’ll get cold.”
“Ma, you promised.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
He closed his eyes and she closed hers too. She meant to do her best to help him out in his contemplation, though also she wanted to talk about a hundred things.
All that came to Noah’s mind, quickly maturing but still somewhat blinded by the surging radiance of puberty, was the lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove. He could see it quite clearly, and he could see, suddenly, who it was there for.
“It’s there for everyone,” he said. He put out his hand and let his mother take it in hers. Tears sprang immediately to her eyes. She had no idea what he meant, but his hand was in hers, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t care what he meant.
Noah himself could say no further, nor see more clearly. But he felt his heart breaking open like the dawn of creation.

7 January 2025
Texas Jim
Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia