The Piper’s Inheritance

When I have a child, I’m going to lead with honesty. Even when it’s hard.

All the reasons I’ve waited, and lessons I’ve learned will be wrapped up in bedtime stories, open fire confessions, laughter, tears, and plenty of ice cream. I want to be memorable, because I know these stories will long outlive me.

But all that will come later.

First, I’ll hold them close, counting all their toes, fingers, and every single strand of peach fuzz. I’ll kiss their cheeks, sort out whose nose they have, and gaze into their eyes to see who I recognize.

I’ll give them a first name that sets them apart, so they never have to measure up to anyone but themselves.

And their middle name will be an inside joke. Something that makes us both laugh every time I’m angry enough to use it.

I won’t struggle with their last name. It already belongs to both warrior and scribe. This child will never wonder who would fight for them, or play with them. And I will teach them to pipe us all to any battle.

But a name and a story isn’t all I will leave them. My legacy is resilience. Soaring through the flames of fires I started is half a super power that I hope they earn the easy way. But if it is the hard way, at least they’ll know how to fife their troops to life.

And lastly, for my child, I will sacrifice quantity for quality. Knowing that while I may not see them into their old age, I will give them the strength to get there without me. And when I’m long gone from this plane, I will keep my ear pressed to the veil- so should they whisper defeat, I will raise the dead. An ancestral army behind each step, because life is filled with battles- and if they’re anything like me, they’ll want to win.