Cultures vary in traditions, but many of them seem to draw back to the idea of the father and son. The father must teach his son how to surpass him. The son carries on the cycle. The idea of the first son is so ubiquitously held that mentioning it to just about anyone doesn't raise eyebrows, but nods of understanding.

The first son.

Maybe I should imagine it: my mother in the hospital bed, waiting for the contractions to get more violent, for the pain of her imminent child to overwhelm her like the last. Thirty-two hours, exhaustion, pain, so much so she barely remembered it, but there it was: her first born, sitting with her mother and husband, nineteen months and female. A girl. Her husband, going off to get a bite to eat in the cafeteria, and then-- 

Forty-five minutes lat...

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