her feet swelled to the size
of her head. It wasn’t the first time the swelling
would happen. He took his first dump in the
amniotic waters. He was plump for one so young. She ate him

as a peach for lunch. He sprayed her in the face with
his piston. He acted peculiar at first. Then it started
getting worse. He sought comfort in things that were
disturbing. He played by himself. Never noticed anyone

else.  It was autism, said the doctors. So, she sought
help. He got better until two years later. Something dreadful
in the night fell upon him. In the morning he was stiffer
than the rafters. She dialed the three digits on her

phone. The ambulance whisked him away on
Good Friday. Isn’t life ironic. It was swelling of the meninges
this time. The damage was pervasive and permanent. He
opened his eyes Easter morning, of our Lord 2000.