Foundations of Friendship


Protocol

His hand shakes a little and he looks nervously at the spectators.

I silently tell him not to worry, that he will do fine, but I am not allowed to speak those words. Protocol demands that I keep my tongue.

He bows before me, as protocol demands, and instead of smiling at him I nod, again: as protocol demands.
He moves to his position, aims and shoots.

And I wish to jump up, forget all protocol , beam at him and shout proudly: "That is my son! My son!"

As ever I wish I could be his father, not his king.