WHO: Calliope WHEN: Good Friday WHERE: Melpomene’s home WHAT: Musing on motherhood WARNINGS: none
Ten days old was such a beautiful age.
Every mother said that, about every age. Their child always had something unique and pure to show. Right now, it was the squishy little cheeks and pudgy nose, and how angelic the little one looked nestled into the crook of Calliope’s arm. Little Telos, beloved boy, son of ancient gods- and right now only bothered about getting enough sleep.
Calliope loved being a mother. It had never been a hardship taking on Theo from Erato. She’d loved the girl from birth, and when she was entrusted to her, every day became about raising that child to the best of her ability. And before Theo, there had been others, all of them special and loved for their uniqueness and wonder.
Telos smacked his lips in his sleep, and Calliope smiled. “Little love, you are just adorable,” she whispered, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Melpomene was resting, trusting her sister to keep the baby happy for a while until his next feed, and Calliope was more than happy to accept that trust.
She also had a little thing to do for Melpomene, something she’d been given the blessing of doing. Crossing the room, she retrieved a little jar of honey, imported specially from the mountainsides of Greece, and she dipped the tip of her pinky finger into it.
“Telos,” she said softly, and walked to the window so the sunlight fell on his face. “Son of Ares, God of War; child of Melpomene, Muse of Tragedy: Blessed are you with great potential. I anoint you, like so-” and she dabbed the honey on his sweet lips. He had opened his grey eyes and looked up at her now, and moved his mouth a little as he tasted the sweetness on it. “I give you the gift of eloquence, to motivate and inspire, to create and to write, to move the soul of man with your words. What do you think of that, little love?”
Telos’ baby face put her in such a mind of Orpheus now that it clenched her chest with nostalgia. Oh Orpheus, her sweet son, brimming with music and talent and goodness. He had been just a perfect baby, him and Linus- and she knew parents weren’t supposed to play favourites, but how could anyone not adore him, and the man he grew up to be? She had never quite forgiven Dionysus for his maenads ending Orpheus’ life. It had been she who had gathered his limbs and his body and carried them back to bury them, and trust to her sister Clio to keep his name alive in story and song.
The baby began fussing, his mouth moving hungrily, and Calliope swayed with him, singing him a little song she had once sung to Theo, and then to Orpheus long, long before that. Slowly, Telos’ eyes began to droop, until he was asleep again, and Calliope could settle down again on the rocking chair in his room, and hum a soothing tune to him, and imagine she had another little one of her own waiting for her. Perhaps tonight, she would insist to Theo that they spend some time together, and she would feel glad that when things got tough, her daughter had come home to her.