Our Son

ASHER

The second I really saw him, really looked at the little boy, I knew..... There was no question. No hesitation. No need for confirmation.

The moment my eyes settled on his small, sleepy, innocent face, I saw myself. In the softness of his features, in the way his brows pulled together, in that stubborn little chin, I saw me.

I saw myself in a mirror of the past. I saw the boy I had once been. The photos. The memories. The unmistakable bloodline.

He was a replica of me.... Leon was mine.

He had to be. There was no other explanation. No need for one. I didn’t want one. I didn’t need his mother to tell me. I didn’t need anyone to speak a word. I knew. In the marrow of my bones. In the beat of my heart.

He was mine.

And suddenly, I felt like I was floating outside my body, like I was watching myself walk towards him in a dream. Was this real? Was he real?

I reached out, placed my hand gently on his shoulder. And he was real.

Solid. Warm. Real.

He kept looking at me, curiously, quiet