Namesake

Sam knelt by the bedside. Rosie, tired and glowing, smiled down at the red, wrinkled newborn nuzzling her breast.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s what we always planned to name a boy, but that was before…”

Before a white sail disappeared into the sunset, never to return.

Could he bear to keep that name alive? To hear and say it dozens of times each day? How much easier to let it fade into dear, dim memory.

But what other name was there for his eldest son? He blinked back tears, but spoke with firm certainty. “His name is Frodo.”