Roots (working title)

Prelude

Spring 1953

Delores and Bill Florence strolled through the tree-lined path in Boston Public Garden, hands interlinked. The air smelled crisp of spring rain from the morning, its fluid crystal residue still lingering on the new sprouts of the weeping willows and elm trees dotting this downtown park. 

Married for a year and a half and 5 months into her first pregnancy, Delores is careful to enjoy this moment to its fullest. Both her and Bill are filled with excited anticipation for the newborn, but both are implicitly aware that there is now a timestamp on their time alone. There won't be a lot of opportunities like this for a few years to come.

They turned the corner and leaned against one of the newly imported redwood trees in the park. The plaque read "Dawn Redwood". One of the few species of the Metasequoia trees to survive the Mesozoic Era and recently rediscovered in Sichuan, China, seeds were imported and distributed to arboretums around across the USA. A few had fortunately made it here.

Bill gently rested his free hand on Delores' bulging belly. "What do you think of the name 'Jason' if it's a him?" 

He must've detected the faint wince on her face. Perhaps due to her stubborn intuition, Delores is not convinced that the life growing in her belly is a he. 

"What if it's a girl?" Delores dodged the initial suggestion.

"I like the name Bethany." Bill tried again.

Both of them felt it that instant. Bill with his hand and Delores, through her gut. The abrupt, almost spastic movement lasted just an instant, but nonetheless aligned the two of them with a split awareness of the growing life's presence. The bond that the three, no, four of them share. The dawn redwood that also plays witness to the moment.

"Dawn. If it's a girl, we are naming her Dawn." Delores said affirmatively. The name made sense to her, and Bill agreed. Dawn, the beginning of a new day, the beginning of a new life they would all partake.

The dawn redwood wilted and died a few months later, but the name stuck. Dawn was born in the midst of scorching August heat, a bundle of joy that was everything that the Florences had hoped for.