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Imagine.

You're peeking through the narrow opening of your bedroom door.

You're supposed to be asleep, but you can't get your eyes to stay closed.

Because tonight, you're hearing something you've never heard before.

I'm crying.

Not your baby brothers, he cries all the time.

It's the other cry that deeper, stifled sobs

that pulled you out of bed tonight.

You squint against the bar of light that pours into your room,

and what you see outside the door horrifies you.

Your mom and dad, sitting side by side at the kitchen table.

If they hear the baby screaming, they're not showing it.

Your mom has a dish towel curled tight in her hand,

and she's pressing it against her face to stifle her sobs.

You've never seen her like this before.

She's always upbeat, busy, cheerful.

She always knows what to do, and she's always doing it.

She never sits still, and she certainly never tries to stuff dish towels

in her mouth like that.

...