Never a Child

I was never a child. Well, that’s not exactly true. I was a child in both years and understanding of the ways of the world, yet I carried the title “Man of the House,” bestowed upon me (innocently) by my mother when my father died at thirty-nine. I was twelve, a boy-king without a Cromwell. I didn’t understand then the implications of my (ultimately) frightening new position. Was I to be my own father, a husband, make decisions? When I actually became the man of the house, and realized the full meaning of my title, I’d already rejected the weight of the crown.