excerpt from
THE SMALLEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD

. . . said the red painted letters, and painted measuring stick at the Maryland State Fair. It was a hot, darkening day, the sky holding off rain. Between the play-till-you-win fishing game and made-to-look-old carousel, there was her booth. The Smallest Woman in the World.

Do you want to see her, I asked Joseph and his friend, Denis. Yes, they said. It was only 50 cents. Ania, who just told us that she was afraid of big characters in costumes and so would never go to Disney World, figured she was not going to like a very small person either, and stayed out. The man at the entrance returned her 50 cents, in dimes.

Joseph and Denis went into the tent and peeked behind a cubicle, grey and fabric- covered like in an office. I saw them waving. Waving back, since at 7, they wouldn't have thought to do so on their own.

Yes, a heart can sink. A heart can drop as fast as a white rock in a clear river, a dry leaf in white water. A heart can sink far from sight, the misstep above chipping the rock, the pieces hitting each outcrop down the side of a cliff: there was a folded blue wheelchair in the corner. There was a cheap wheelchair I was hoping the boys wouldn't notice.