Got the idea in March, and put it into action May 25, 2008. I'm only using one verse, because the rest doesn't necessarily work with Fillmore and Ingrid (or, my little portrayal of them). I may use more of it eventually, but for now, just one verse from the song Walking Her Home by Mark Shulz.
Dedicated to ktwesterna, who wanted to know why they never had more children.
The song is by a Christian artist, but doesn't really mention God, so nothing to worry about for those of you who don't enjoy that kind of stuff.
Perhaps I'll change it eventually to fit more the song, but for now, it's just most of one verse.
To warn you, it'll be short.
Ten more years and a waiting room
Ten years after Carly was born, when she was about nine years old, Fillmore was sitting in the same hospital, the same chair, actually, that he had occupied the day of Carly's birth, waiting for news on Ingrid's condition. Carly was at his parents' house, probably watching Flora and playing with Grama and Grampa's new cat, whom Carly had christened Bubbles. Fillmore would call his parents when he had news, and they would decide if they would bring Carly to the hospital to visit Mommy.
At half past one
When one o'clock rolled around, seven hours after he had brought Ingrid here in the first place, he could no longer bear sitting down. He stood and paced the waiting room, grateful that no one else was in the area but an elderly, understanding nurse who had offered him a cup of coffee that he had declined.
At one thirty, the doctor approached him, still covered in surgery garb but with a smile on his fifty-something face.
And the doctor said "Come in and meet your son."
The smile broadened when Fillmore approached him, and he offered Fillmore his hand and a clap on the back. "You're a father. Congrats—a little boy."
His knees went weak
With a sigh that he couldn't classify as relief or fear, Fillmore entered the room behind the doctor, his knees feeling like jelly.
When he saw his wife
There sat Ingrid, radiant with the glow of motherhood, holding that little bundle, and he felt like he would fall over at any moment.
She was smiling as she said "He's got your eyes."
Ingrid smiled at him, beckoning him closer and grinning as she declared, "His eyes are just like yours."
As she gave him the blanket-wrapped little boy, Fillmore stared into those little eyes, the eyes that looked exactly like his, and looked up at Ingrid, who was still beaming.
"So what are you naming him? Junior?" She asked, and he shook his head.
"No, I was thinking I'd let you name him, considering your knack for picking out good ones."
Ingrid smiled, and he added, "I'm sure you've already got some ideas."
"AS a matter of fact, I do. What do you think about Damion?"
Fillmore grinned. "What does it mean?"
"From the Greek 'damao,' which means 'to tame'."
Fillmore chuckled. "Damion Cornelius?"
Ingrid smiled. "Damion Cornelius."
"I'll go call our parents. I'm sure Carly will want to come see her little brother."
Heh. Kinda a pathetic ending, but it's semi-cute, non?
Got the name "Damion" from Behind the Name, and figured they should include Cornelius in there, too. Thus, Damion Cornelius.
No clue where I got Carly naming a cat "Bubbles" came from…
It's 417 words with the lyrics, 377 without. Short, but you can't say I didn't warn you. :P
