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Dear Ash,

February 28, 1990: Ash Wednesday

Out of all the things in this world, Ash, time is by far the most fickle. It is only February and yet it seems as if the day of your birth will never come. Yet sometimes, I find myself staring at the calendar, amazed that so many months have passed since that day in October. It’s so clear in my memory it’s almost as if it occurred yesterday.

On the 28th of October, your mother came to me. Her lovely green eyes were bright with excitement and she’d barely been able to keep the words from bursting at her. I’d asked her what had happened, with a smile of my own, for to see her feeling happy lifted my spirits. Her response was to show me a pregnancy test with a positive sign on it. “Rimé, you’re going to be a father!” she’d exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and holding me tight.

Rarely have I ever been so shocked as I had been on that day. I remember standing frozen in place like a statue, too stunned to speak. I’d believed my sole chance of having children had died with my human self that cold, Russian day in 1917… But I was wrong, and I am so very grateful to have been incorrect.

But enough of that. I will not say another word about the end of my human life in this letter to you. I want my letters to be filled with happiness and hope, rather than sorrow over incidents that happened long ago. My pain does not need to become yours, Ash. You will have your own troubles to face as you grow older and you do not need mine on top of yours.

Oh if only it were July! I want you here so badly. Alas that I must wait five months… unless something falls ill with you or Aelwyn. I pray that is not the case. As impatient as I am to see you, my son, I wish for your birth to come at the correct, natural time. As does your mother. We are willing to wait these five long months to have our strong, healthy son.

The doctors have predicted you’ll be born the 15th of July. I hope they are correct in their assumptions. ‘Tis a fitting date, for you were conceived in late October. Before Aelwyn consulted a doctor about her due date, I’d guessed you would be born in the middle of July.

July… it’s so far away from February. Yet February is nearly over. Today is Ash Wednesday, and this day made me think of you. My family and I were Catholics back in Russia. We attended mass on this day and received our ashes, joining in the fasting of Lent and giving up a particular habit or favorite item of ours.

Every Ash Wednesday ever since the last one I celebrated with my family in 1916 has always been a day of sorrow and nostalgia. Human memories fade with time, but mine are still so clear in terms of those final years of life. Forgive me, Ash. I’d promised not to speak of my life in Russia again but it seems I have broken my word.

As I said, the Ash Wednesdays for the past seventy-four years have been painful, but no more. This Ash Wednesday brings me hope. In forty-six days it will be Easter Sunday. It will be forty-six days closer to your birth. Forty-six days nearer to the day your mother and I will be able to complete our family with you: our precious child.

Aelwyn and I are both so eager to see you. We’ve agreed that one day, when you are older, we will take you to Russia and show you the land of your ancestors. Half of my Russian blood runs through your veins, Ash. You are half Russian and half vampire, ten percent Irish, British, Swedish, German, Scottish, and fifty percent human.

It’s frustrating and intriguing that your nationality and heritage are the only things I know for certain about you. As the days pass, my questions grow until I can barely stand the uncertainty of it all. I guess this is something all parents experience, whether it be their first child, their second, or any child after.

I should just write a list of all the questions I have. What will you look like? Will you have my blue eyes, Aelwyn’s green eyes, or an eye color further back in our heritage? What will the color and texture of your hair be? Will you look like me, or favor your mother? What will you be like? I have so many questions and so many months until I have my answers!

But no matter what your personality is or who you look like, I know you will be perfect. Because you are my son and I have loved you ever since Aelwyn told me that she was with child.

Love,

Your father
Rimé

Description
Dear Ash,

February 28, 1990: Ash Wednesday

Out of all the things in this world, Ash, time is by far the most fickle. It is only February and yet it seems as if the day of your birth will never come. Yet sometimes, I find myself staring at the calendar, amazed that so many months have passed since that day in October. It’s so clear in my memory it’s almost as if it occurred yesterday.

On the 28th of October, your mother came to me. Her lovely green eyes were bright with excitement and she’d barely been able to keep the words from bursting at her. I’d asked her what had happened, with a smile of my own, for to see her feeling happy lifted my spirits. Her response was to show me a pregnancy test with a positive sign on it. “Rimé, you’re going to be a father!” she’d exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and holding me tight.

Rarely have I ever been so shocked as I had been on that day. I remember standing frozen in place like a statue, too stunned to speak. I’d believed my sole chance of having children had died with my human self that cold, Russian day in 1917… But I was wrong, and I am so very grateful to have been incorrect.

But enough of that. I will not say another word about the end of my human life in this letter to you. I want my letters to be filled with happiness and hope, rather than sorrow over incidents that happened long ago. My pain does not need to become yours, Ash. You will have your own troubles to face as you grow older and you do not need mine on top of yours.

Oh if only it were July! I want you here so badly. Alas that I must wait five months… unless something falls ill with you or Aelwyn. I pray that is not the case. As impatient as I am to see you, my son, I wish for your birth to come at the correct, natural time. As does your mother. We are willing to wait these five long months to have our strong, healthy son.

The doctors have predicted you’ll be born the 15th of July. I hope they are correct in their assumptions. ‘Tis a fitting date, for you were conceived in late October. Before Aelwyn consulted a doctor about her due date, I’d guessed you would be born in the middle of July.

July… it’s so far away from February. Yet February is nearly over. Today is Ash Wednesday, and this day made me think of you. My family and I were Catholics back in Russia. We attended mass on this day and received our ashes, joining in the fasting of Lent and giving up a particular habit or favorite item of ours.

Every Ash Wednesday ever since the last one I celebrated with my family in 1916 has always been a day of sorrow and nostalgia. Human memories fade with time, but mine are still so clear in terms of those final years of life. Forgive me, Ash. I’d promised not to speak of my life in Russia again but it seems I have broken my word.

As I said, the Ash Wednesdays for the past seventy-four years have been painful, but no more. This Ash Wednesday brings me hope. In forty-six days it will be Easter Sunday. It will be forty-six days closer to your birth. Forty-six days nearer to the day your mother and I will be able to complete our family with you: our precious child.

Aelwyn and I are both so eager to see you. We’ve agreed that one day, when you are older, we will take you to Russia and show you the land of your ancestors. Half of my Russian blood runs through your veins, Ash. You are half Russian and half vampire, ten percent Irish, British, Swedish, German, Scottish, and fifty percent human.

It’s frustrating and intriguing that your nationality and heritage are the only things I know for certain about you. As the days pass, my questions grow until I can barely stand the uncertainty of it all. I guess this is something all parents experience, whether it be their first child, their second, or any child after.

I should just write a list of all the questions I have. What will you look like? Will you have my blue eyes, Aelwyn’s green eyes, or an eye color further back in our heritage? What will the color and texture of your hair be? Will you look like me, or favor your mother? What will you be like? I have so many questions and so many months until I have my answers!

But no matter what your personality is or who you look like, I know you will be perfect. Because you are my son and I have loved you ever since Aelwyn told me that she was with child.

Love,

Your father
Rimé