My dad, though he would not be my dad for two years, was left alone outside the newly-vacant hospital room
A cart stood inside, unmoved since my mother's bed was rolled away
He could not follow her, but his mind had not left what lay on the cart since her departure anyway
He was not supposed to do this, but there was no choosing otherwise
He entered the room and approached
A white towel lay over a small metal pan resting upon the cart
He reached down and pulled the towel away
His son
Tiny, not entirely formed, but human
His name was Spike
My name is Spike, too
He must have only been a pound or two
My dad loved him
And I love him, too
My brother,
I hope someday I'll meet you