Wednesday, February 11, 2004

LIFE OF BRIAN 3: He is born The final months of that pregnancy were somber ones. Mom would accept no assistance from her family. We moved to a one-room apartment with a Murphy bed at Sixth and Rampart. An agent from the FBI conducted a couple of futile interviews with us in connection with some underworld crime. ("Did he ever mention anyone named 'Tito'?") Mom got the adoption process going. Somewhere an infertile couple anxiously awaited my brother's birth. I didn't know how to feel. I hadn't much family, no siblings; on the other hand, Mom wasn't a big fan of motherhood, and it was her decision, after all. My grandmother thought she could change her mind, and to this end she drove me to the hospital the day my brother was born. If she could get me involved, Mom might reconsider. Gram was an LVN. I don't know what nursing-sorority secret words she used to get around the rules, but soon one of the ward nurses wheeled my brother's bassinet to the nursery window so I could get a good look before we went in to see my mother. It was a devastating sixty seconds or so. Where the other babies were red and squirming, my sleeping brother was still, utterly peaceful, white, an angel carved from alabaster. I had never seen a creature so perfect, so beautiful. I made a vow to him in that moment that when I was grown I would find him and claim him and never lose him again. I'd just been given a gift of inestimable value, and I didn't even know it. 10:31:54 AM    say something if you feel like it []

© Copyright 2004 Sam Mills. Last update: 2/18/04; 8:14:26 AM.