The real Mother Goose

Mother chuckled, running her hand over the fragile surface of the egg. “And all that time, I thought I just couldn’t get pregnant…”

“Mother! Look!” Willie was excited, in spite of his annoyance at being appointed temporary mother-hen, and even Molly peered over the side of the bed to watch the hatching. It was the tip of the wet wings, with their sharp, taloned edges, that were sharp enough to break through the surface, and they all watched, fascinated, as their offspring emerged.

“She’s beautiful,” Mother whispered, tears stinging her eyes as she lifted the naked, wet human baby, who didn’t cry but rather crowed in her mother’s arms. Father Goose looked proudly over his wife’s shoulder at the bundle of flesh and feathers cradled in her arms.

“Just like her mother,” Artan whispered, kissing Maren’s cheek. “Sweet little bird.”

“Now you really are a Mother…Goose.” Blue spoke from the doorway, leaning there with a huge grin spread across his face. He had brought Jill up behind him, and Jack had come too. They poked their heads past the big man to see.

“The baby’s here!” Jill squealed in delight.

Mother Goose kissed the drying forehead of her daughter, looking up at her husband through a prism of tears. “And you’re a father.”

“I’ve never been happier or prouder to be anything.” Artan unhooked the medallion from around his neck, dangling in front of his newborn daughter. The child’s hands waved, batting at it. “I suppose it will be a while before she can wear this.”

“A while, yes.” Mother smiled. “But she will fly free with us.”

“Yes.” Father nodded, kissing first his baby, and then his wife, echoing the sentiment as he put the medallion back on, glancing around at the smiling members of their make-shift family gathered around them. “Free. Wherever we decide to go.”