The Living Reed: A Novel of Korea Read Online Free PDF Page B

not open his eyes. She teased him then with the nipple, lifting her breast with her hand, brushing his lips lightly and laughing at him. The women gathered about her to enjoy the sight of the healthy young woman and her beautiful male child.
    “Look at him, look at him,” the younger sister exclaimed. “He is opening his eyes. Look—he is pouting his lips.”
    They watched, breathless. The child had indeed opened his eyes and was gazing up at his mother. Suddenly, newborn though he was, he seized the nipple between his lips and sucked.
    “Ah—ah—ah—”
    The women breathed great sighs. They looked at one another. Whoever heard of such a thing? To suckle so soon—even for a moment—yes, it was only for a moment. The child fell back into sleep, the clear liquid of the first milk wet upon his lips. The midwife took him then and laid him in bed beside his mother, for a child should sleep close to the mother when he is newborn, should feel the warmth of her body, so lately his home, and know the presence of her spirit with him as much now as when he was unborn. Then the sister smoothed the pillows for the mother and arranged the quilt.
    “Sleep,” the midwife commanded her. “We shall be near if you call, but now you must rest.”
    They withdrew to another room, closing the sliding door after them. Sunia waited until they were gone, and then she turned to her child. This was her first moment alone with him and she must examine for herself her own creation. She sat up in bed and took the child on her lap and undressed him, her hands warm and gentle in their movements, until he lay naked before her. Then with the most meticulous care she searched his entire body for a flaw, first his feet upon which some day he must walk firmly, a strong man—but how small they were and how pretty, the toes perfect and in order, the number complete, the nails pink and already long enough to be cut, but she must not cut them, for it would be a bad omen for his life-span. The insteps, left and right, were high as her own were, and the ankles shapely even now. The legs were long like his father’s and they would be straight when the baby curve was gone, for the bones were strong. The thighs were fat and the belly was round. The chest was full and the shoulders, already broad, supported the neck. The arms were long, too, and thus promised a tall man. The hands were exquisite, again the long beautiful hands of his father. Her own were small and graceful, but Il-han’s were powerful, although he had never done more with his hands than hold a brush to write. The head was ample for a good brain, nobly shaped, high from the ears to the crown, signifying intelligence. The hair was soft, dark and plentiful. All the features were perfect in shape and arrangement. He looked like his father, this son, whereas the elder was like her. There was no flaw. She had made him perfect and whole. No—wait, the little ear on the left—the lobe? She examined it carefully while the child slept. The tip of the left lobe was shortened, tucked in, imperfect!
    What had caused this? She searched her memory. What had she done that could have created a child with even the smallest imperfection? The omens had been good, she had known that she would have a son, for she had dreamed one night of the sun rising over the horizon at dawn. To have dreamed of flowers would have meant a daughter. Then why the pinched lobe of this small left ear? While she was pregnant she had been careful to remember all her dreams and none had been evil. Best of all, she had even dreamed of seeing her father who died when she was a child of four, so young that she could see his face only dimly if she thought of him. Yet in her dream his face had been clear and smiling, a long kindly face, the nose neither high, which would have signified bankruptcy and death in a foreign land, nor low, which would have signified greed. She examined the baby’s nose anxiously. It was neither high nor low,