Teen Times / Ciaran O'Rourke: We were no longer children. Our hearts were pounding and the tingling chill of responsibility had begun to creep over us. Mum and Dad were weak, shaking with that sensation commonly known as love.
Aeveen, my sister - her tiny face scrunched up with the exertion of coming here, to this new world - was cradled in my Mum's embrace. Her toes, no larger than blots of spattered ink, wiggled with energy, with life.
Mum, the toiling cascade of the previous night now over, radiated joy. That sterile smell of hospitals was tinged with a faint sensation, an emotion generated by this small creature: happiness.
Iseult was holding her now. Something had changed in her, as if a sliver of her youth had unconsciously stayed behind in that place of broken toys and forgotten pieces of painted plastic; she was the baby no longer.
My turn. My coarse hands, vulnerable to the unblemished rolls of newly clad purity, were dry and unsure. She lay in my arms, her beating heart close to mine, the steady rhythm pulsing through the silence and turning my uncertainty to awe.
We saw in her the untroubled goodness of life: no anger, no hatred, no lust for wealth or power; but an untainted freshness which gave us more than anyone could give. Like Excalibur, she vanquished our fears with magic; her tiny form, so powerful and unknowingly perfect, gave us the strength to overcome all that tarnishes this planet of ours.
The fumes of smoke and traffic outside, bearing the frowns and concerns of the economic world, slowly faded into insignificance.
She repelled the commotion of the city. She loosened the knots of tightened worry involuntarily woven into the pattern of the modern world, and she offered us an outlet into a place of reason, away from the daily chore of business and commerce that has gradually lathered over the surface of human instinct.
With shy fingers, she caressed our faces, smoothing away the wrinkles caused by meaningless anxieties. Every laboured twitch of her nose or snailing blink of her eyes triggered a reaction in us, our bodies responding with an impulsive wave of curiosity and devotion that had previously remained hidden deep within the caverns of our jumbled feelings.
She was hope, and our belief in her was love.
Ciarán O' Rourke (14) is a third-year student in Gonzaga College, Ranelagh, Dublin
Submissions of 500-word articles are welcome from teenagers to teentimes@irish-times.ie. Please include a phone number
