It was hard on Ernie’s mother. He very rarely talked; when he did, it was just a few sentences. “He’s an intellectual.” she used to brag before the accident. Now, she rarely spoke of him to others. Ever so often, Ernie would sit on the floor and bawl. Once, when she asked the doctor about it, he said it was subconscious. Something about “pining away for what he used to have.”

There were times, however, when his child-like manner brought smiles to her face. Like the time it was storming outside, and he crawled into bed with her.

“Mama.” Ernie pointed to his mouth. Then, he sat on the floor and sucked his thumb. She looked at him from overhead; like a guardian-angel. His arms reached up to hers.

His fiance had disappeared shortly after that accident. She claimed that she couldn’t spend her life caring for an invalid. She had asked he be put to sleep. Like a dog. It had been his mother with the right to choose whether he lived or died. Thankfully, she chose life.

“Now, what d’ya think of that?”