she’s willfull in ways that would make her spoiled if she didn’t share her food with us. this is what she does now, feeds me as I feed her. and i think terribly some day the roles will be reversed but I won’t be feeding her, just her feeding her old man, broken finally in all places, mind gone, body gone, wife gone, nothing left but a sack of misery for her. will she be changing my diapers.
and it’s not easy to think of another child while this, not wanting to take away from the singularity of this one child, with her pony tail atop her head like some martian and her gut busting laughter. it’s something to be ashamed of, not wanting to take the spotlight away from this child.