“I miss the good old days,” he’d say, “you know, before my face got so fat (from meds) and I had this trache.” He pointed to the breathing apparatus in his throat. During thunderstorms he’d matter-of-factly announce, “That’s my friend Katie up there bouncing on the clouds again.”
When frustration, pain and aggravation consumed him, he’d point with what he called his “E.T. finger”, his index finger with the red light indicator clip, and he’d yell at his doctors and nurses, “That’s it! You’re fired!”
“Don't worry, Mom. See the man in the moon? He's smiling at us.”
Ann smiled, but she wasn’t able to distinguish the imaginary features Stephen and others claimed to see when they looked at the full moon.
This was originally published years ago in St. Louis Southside Suburban Journals.