deeda-zoomlens: Best Friends.
Daybreak steps inside the veil of le...: Best Friends. Daybreak steps inside the veil of leaves; the morning mist, sliding through the willows, is long shadowed and light laye...
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
deeda-zoomlens: Best Friends.Daybreak steps inside the veil of lea...
deeda-zoomlens: Best Friends.Daybreak steps inside the veil of lea...: Best Friends. Daybreak steps inside the veil of leaves; the morning mist, sliding through the willows, is long shadowed and light layere...
Best Friends.
Daybreak steps inside the veil of leaves; the morning mist, sliding through the willows, is long shadowed and light layered — floating blue and green, in lazy spheres around the loons as they take their ablutions. The little fawn pauses behind his grey boulder, one foot stepping out of the island fog, a dog barks an echo across the way, the great blue heron silently goes about his breakfast hunting.
Suddenly, bacon is on the air. In the blink of an eye the island home is bare, save for the campfire and the two boys, clanging on their pots and making wake-up noises.
They make houses out of their sleeping bags — and then castles and forts, tussling. Sticks are for marshmallow ends and then they’re way-markers for lost sailors, finding the dangerous trail home. When the basketball seems to stare, one of them remembers Wilson: Giggles have them bent doubled — holding their ribs for air.
Laughter floods the chipmunk nooks and squirrel nests alike; happy is the day that boy songs play their tune in the safety of Indian Paintbrush, Trillium, and every now and then a perfect pink Lady Slipper.
Two heads, side by side, lying very uncomfortably on rocks, find pictures in the sky. Cloud visions — angels and horses, cars and Super Heroes. And Jesus.
Harold stuck his thumbs through his belt loops and glared, “You did not either!”
Jim picked the perfect stem of Johnson Grass and stuck it in his mouth, drawing up his knees, as he kept right on looking up, “I did, too!”
Harold kicked the dirt. He whistled. He found a pine cone and threw it, then circle back with, “OK, then, swear on it!”
The Johnson grass moved just a bit between Jim’s front teeth. “I don’t swear.”
In mid huff and puff, Harold stopped short, “What? Since when? That’s cold stupid.”
Jim shrugged a smile, “He said not to.”
Harold’s head popped round as his palms hit his dramatically furrowed forehead. “Who said not to what?” There was just a bit of swagger with some spit for exaggeration, “You’re just being a jerk cause I saw the best horse.”
That was when there was the big smile that stretched right through Jim’s freckled face. “Nope! You can see all the best horses. It’s OK. I get to see Jesus everyday.” He cocked his head and squinted an eye, “He doesn’t like me to swear, though, so I stopped. I bet he would like it if you stopped, too.”
Grabbing this piece of clothing and that bit of the chocolate stores in a right hurry to pack up and leave, Harold was stopped short again, “Me?” Jim just looked over at him and twirled the grass. Harold shifted from one foot to the other, “What do you mean you see Him everyday? How? You got magic eyes?”
Rummaging in his own rucksack was quick enough. Jim pulled his kindle out of the roll, touched it to open on the bible and handed it over. “Tell you the truth, I don’t really know how, but if you start reading this everyday, well — it just starts to happen.”
At that Harold drew back his hand. The kindle dropped to the ground with his snarky tone words, “Oh, so you mean it’s storytime imagination! You still watch Mr. Rogers re-runs, too?”
Freckled face Jim smiled again but shook his head. “Hey, man, He said for you to try it. — I don’t see him with my eyes, you know.”
“You’re totally freaking me out,” Harold stamped a couple of feet away but looked into the trees, as if to catch a glimpse of something ….
Freckle face bounced Wilson Harold’s way and pointed to a splash in the water. “Good for you to get freaked out every now and then, or what’s a best bud for? How bout we come back tomorrow and bring some fishing poles?”
If uncomfortable stares could make communication happen, Wilson and Harold were for all the world having a conversation. “Yeah, well…” He bounced Wilson hard back over to his buddy. “Fishing might be OK… but… hey, Jim, it’s just, this is weird and anyway, I thought I was your best friend.”
Freckle face nodded and laughed, ‘Nope, that’d be Wilson!”
The ice fell off of Harold’s face as Jim split a chocolate and looked over the trail towards home. “Hal, that friend part — it’s the same thing I said to my dad when I found out. I was scared I was going to lose him, but I didn’t lose anything; I just got more instead. Guess that doesn’t make alot of sense right now but it will.”
The two of them got the bedrolls tied and were tending to the fire in silence until Jim looked up at the sky and pointed at a picture cloud again, “Another horse!”
He kept on tying and straightening, adding, “Praying makes everything easier to understand. It’s talking is all it is. My dad and I do it together at night now and Mom is starting to join in, too. I been wanting to talk to you, but it didn’t seem the right time until today when… well, today.”
Hal whistled. Hal walked ahead. Hal slowed down. Hal bounced Wilson. Hal blurted, “Well are you going to loan me that old kindle of yours or not?”
Jim tucked it inside his buddy’s bag before he took his turn home, with an easy, “See you tomorrow.”
Hal headed toward his cut to the side road home and nodded, “Yep, uh, maybe I’ll see both of you.”
Freckle face Jim smiled.
Jesus smiled, too.
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