The Sound Of BLu

“I know you’ll probably never see this, but if you do, know that I’ll never forget you…”

Somewhere, a baby was born.

A baby boy.

Not in a hospital, but in some rundown trailer off the side of State Highway 22. Instead of being greeted into this world with the awkward smell of bleached hospital walls, he was plopped onto a peeling linoleum floor. No nurses were there to check his weight or measure his length. No doctors were there to get his vitals or swaddle him up. No, instead he was just picked up, smacked across the ass a few times, and placed in a kitchen sink next to some stained coffee mugs. The umbilical cord was cut with a pocketknife and clamped off with a hair-tie. Some old towels were scattered across the floor to help keep the blood from getting onto the living room carpet.

Unsurprisingly, the boy began to cry.

Also unsurprisingly, no one in the house really seemed to care. Out of the nine or ten people present that cool November day, not a single one of them bothered to check on him. Instead, the mother staggered over to her recliner while the boy’s father swept up the afterbirth and threw it into the dog bowl.

Had to save that money where they could.

Their children, the other eight of them, were either busy helping with the mess or outside chopping wood before the winter hit hard. After all, that old wood stove wasn’t going to feed itself.

With no name, no remorse, and no affection, that boy lied in that sink; his screams periodically drowned out by the occasional “AMEN!” and “PRAISE JESUS!” that echoed from the TV.

With no name, no remorse, and no affection, that boy lied in that sink. Whether he liked it or not, he was nothing more than just another mouth to feed.

With no name, no remorse, and no affection, that boy’s life began in a rundown trailer tucked away in the woods somewhere off State Highway 22.

Somewhere, a baby was born.

A baby boy.

And nobody gave a shit…