Breath of life.

A few days after Christmas had passed and it was a great Christmas. I decided to ignore the children who taunted us and called us “Zulus” because I knew we were better than that, mother collected a pigs head from the butchers on Christmas Eve and it was delicious. It was my first time trying pig head, I was a little bit sceptical because I had never eaten the head of an animal before and it felt cruel, after all I wouldn’t want anybody picking at my brain when I died. I played with my food until my stomach growled in protest and decided to try it, a small bite at a time. My first bite was so miniscule I could hardly taste a thing so I had decided to take a second bigger bite and this time as I put the fork in my mouth the metal grinding against my teeth the scent of cooked meat invaded my nostrils and I couldn’t take it, I gobbled down my whole meal before anybody else had time to finish theirs. Father laughed at me and padded me on the back, I felt proud and happy as everyone wished each other Merry Christmas for the seventeenth time that day. But today mother had been feeling sudden pains in her stomach, the same kind of pains she had when Oliver and Eugene were in her belly, maybe the new baby was kicking hard or screaming inside, but whatever he was doing was hurting mum and I didn’t like it one bit. Soon enough at around three o’clock in the afternoon mother knelt over in her thick winter dress and socks and held on to the counter top telling father that it was time while taking deep breaths, what was it time for? Was it time for tee, or was it time for a walk? I didn’t understand but I would soon find out as father rushed around small beads of sweat forming on his forehead and a look of concern in his eyes around the small apartment grabbing the a few small items that comforted mother, he grabbed her favourite rough red and white plaid blanket and her coat and they rushed out. When father returned I bombarded him with questions asking him if mother was having her baby, where babies came from, and why does mum keep having them. He soon became frustrated with all my questions and told me to hush; he had never told me to hush before I believe it was the stress that was getting to him. He looked like a mad man pacing around the room his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed to the ground but soon enough mother returned home with a baby, Michael. It was the most precious thing I had ever seen, he was so tiny and fragile wrapped up in a world of blankets. His eyes were closed and he was as pink as the little girl’s cheeks when I would tell them they were pretty. His fingers were ten times smaller than mine and his nails looked almost invisible, it was hard to think something so small could come from such a big stomach, I wonder how he came out. But mother doesn’t look very happy, she tells us that Michael has a very bad cold, and might not survive it, so I made a promise to myself not to let baby Michael die with me around I was going to protect him from everything and anything even a small little cold. My promise didn’t stand for much because soon after he stopped breathing his small little stomach no longer moved and his face began to become purple when mother noticed she screamed for father and she started to cry, father gently but quickly laid Michael down on the ground through my tears I noticed that father was putting his mouth around his nose, for a quick moment I thought how disgusting until he sucked all of the mucus out of Michaels nose making him scream back to life colors slowly re-appearing in his skin, that was one of the reasons I loved my father so much, because even if he was a low life drunk that used all our dole money he always knew what to do. He always knew what to do.