The Fool on the Swill

Judith “Babe” Mitton is a non-verbal severely retarded female. As long as I have known her, she has worn a cute set of signature pigtails that usually hover overtop a stolen cup of hot coffee.

As a disabled child, Judith grew up in a bi-level house before her parents gave up custody of her then moved to parts unknown never to be heard from again. As a result, the social services agency with whom I work found her a licensed home in the community to live and moved her across the county. Over the years, Judith bounced around different homes but managed to avoid institutional commitment. A thousand spilled coffee cups later, low and behold circumstances dictated another uprooting so she moved back into Gloucester County.

The new caregiver thought Judith made a seamless transition into her new home. Judith seemed intimately familiar and at ease with her new surroundings from the onset. She claimed her own bedroom in the house like an incumbent and chased the kitchen coffee pot from her first morning on. A long honeymoon period followed.

A decade later, a reclusive neighbor ventured outside to get some sunlight on his ashen elder face. He recognized outbound Judith from yesteryear like kindled infinite fate. The facts were checked until they proved undeniable. A mentally challenged person defied all odds and incredibly moved back into her own house with only her knowing it while those who thought they knew better called her retarded. From the mouth of babe came no words, but in life like her coffee, the cream did rise to the top. Sometimes home has an old address.