Darla smiled and moved off the couch and we both walked over to the bag, it moved again. Darla once caught an Opossum and had it under a laundry basket; I was going to open this bag gently and prepare myself to talk Darla into releasing whatever it was back into the wild.

Darla screamed in the emergency room, blood flowed from the disastrous gash across her face. Her mother tried to explain to the doctor that Darla was already covered in blood, but they assumed she had it all wrong, being drunk and all.

I unrolled the top of the bag and gently pulled the mouth of the bag apart, Darla clapping and giddy as she looked over my shoulder. And there it was, a little blue baby.

Now here’s where my personality and demeanor come in. My abuse was so severe, nothing shocks me. There are no surprises left in my life. There’s no judgement or conclusion that fits neatly into my world view; everything is possible.

“I found it Joe! I found it outside! I found it in the rain barrel! It’s mine! Can I keep it Joe?”