There were two boys with the same obscure first name born on a late October day in 2006 at Parkridge East Hospital. Sometimes I wonder if we brought the correct child home.
As fiercely as I love our younger son, he seems to be from another planet – like Mork from Ork. For example, he has an unassailable memory while the rest of the family seems to wander around in a mental fog.
“Son, have you seen my black coffee cup?” I asked him in exasperation the other day. “It’s my favorite cup, and I think I’ve lost it. I haven’t seen it in a week. It’s very upsetting, actually.”
“It’s on the front porch beside the rocking chair where you left it last Saturday morning while you were reading the newspaper,” he said.
Dang.
