There was a woman whose children kept dying of a choking disease. When her third son showed signs of the disease before his second birthday she decided to consult an old mid-wife and herb woman.
Her husband did not wish her to go.
``It's the tizic,'' he said, ``the boy will live or die. Aint nothing to be done.''
But the woman walked six miles to the mid-wife's house.
``Not much to be done,'' the old woman said, ``but try this: take a spoon of the boy's blood and as close to a spoon of his tears and mix it good with kerosene and make him swallow it. Do it in the dark of the moon six months running. Sometimes it works. Mostly it don't.''
For six months at the dark of the moon the woman took the little boy and slipped out of the house and out of hearing of any one. Then she stuck a sharpened quill into the boy's arm and collected his blood. The boy wept indignantly at such treatment so she easily caught a teaspoon of tears. She mixed the blood and tears with kerosene and forced it into the child's mouth then held his nose and mouth shut and massaged his throat until he swallowed the mix.
It was the sixth month when the boy wouldn't cry. The woman was desperate. She slapped the boy. He would not weep. Then she ran away from him in the dark field and the boy was terrified and wept inconsolably. The woman collected his tears and forced the mix down him. Then she took the boy in her arms and took him home and tucked him tenderly in his bed.
The tizic was abating. Sometimes in the winter it would return, but the child always recovered by summer.
He grew up smart and strong, but strangely, never happy. He felt there were dark memories just beyond his reach.
When his mother became ill he returned for the first time in many years. He sat on her bed and they spoke gently back and forth. When the conversation turned to his two long dead brothers, the woman sighed and smiled a little.
``I never told your Pa how I saved you,'' she said.
``Saved me?''
``Didn't I tell you?''
``Tell me what? Saved me?''
``It was a spell from the mid-wife. Your Pa didn't believe...''
Then as she spoke the memory of being beaten and abandoned in the dark returned to him.
But for all his long life he could not convince himself that this had been an act of love.