PRESENT
Six weeks after the birth.
I caught Nikita before he went face-first into the cold grass. My son and the ground had a very close relationship; he always wanted to run after his siblings, but he still was not fast enough and his anxiety worked against him. He was very small and his legs, very short.
But he was no longer the smallest. In the hollow of my left arm, Alexei yawned and kept sleeping while I set Nikita back on his feet and let him go. The jolt had not disturbed the baby. My youngest son was not like the others: he accepted my presence from day one, when with all the rest I had to wait anxiously for long weeks until they got used to my smell and allowed me to carry them.
I was enjoying it very much, of course.
Among my people, the idea of “baptism” does not exist, but
