A Blessed Event (Or something)

them will go spiraling on into the next century, a new millennium of time. The toy maker has deserted childhood. My sister lives in a permanent distortion of childhood. I'm trying to hang onto mine, and I'm losing the battle. A child of sorts having a child. A child needs a lot more than toys. Not even his own toys could save Jennings. I'm worried sick and tired, sensing the cycle ofending andbeginningmove forward with all the force of a juggernaut. I feel humble and incredibly sad at the same time. Most of all I feel in need of rest—for the eternal rest of Jennings, rest for my parents, most of all for my sister. We all need a long rest. A Blessed Event (Or something) He sort of sneaked up on them. Came along almost before she knew she was pregnant. Came at an odd time in their lives too. Both had lately drifted off onto different paths. Couldn't remember when they'd last had sex but knew they must've. Figured it had been one of those cold winter nights when they'd had too many Irish coffees to keep warm. Or something. He was born beautiful beyond their dreams. They looked in their mirror and at each other and were awed by their creation. His presence brought them closer again and often they stood together watching dumbfounded as he mastered childhood skills with ease. On his sixth birthday when his mother stood unseen in the hallway and watched him reach for the phone before it rang she knew he was special. Or something. —Shirley Valencia 35 ...