Setting Sun
© By Jack Bogut
All rights reserved
There’s a plant called a Diamond
Willow that grows in just a few places in
Carl took the stone from his son in
the palm of his left hand and held the diamond willow in his right. He glanced at James and tossed the stone in
the air. Then, taking the stick in both
his huge hands he swung at the rock. A
crack loud as a rifle shot split the quiet end of that day like a melon and the
rock soared toward the setting sun and disappeared into the orange ball, never
to be seen again. James picked up stone
after stone and his father cracked each one into oblivion. The hero-worship in his eyes was unmistakable. No one could hit stones or do anything for
that matter, like his dad. Nobody he
knew was stronger, could lift more, was smarter, or could do anything better
than his dad.
That’s why, when they brought Carl’s
body home in that big pine box in the back of the wagon that day, James’ world
crashed around him. But he knew he
shouldn’t and couldn’t show his emotions to anyone, especially his brothers and
sisters. He would try not to let his
mother see how he felt but he knew she would know anyway. He just tried to think of how his father
would handle this same situation.
He didn’t think about it very long
or hard. He just squared his shoulders,
tightened his jaw, dried his eyes and walked in the house.
“Mom?”
Louise looked at her ten year old
son. “James?”
He thought about asking her what he
could do but that’s not what his father would have done. It was up to him to know what to do, not to
ask anymore. He wanted his mother to wrap
her arms around him and let him pour out his feelings but instead, put his arm
around her shoulder and asked:
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she answered and then
caught herself before she could say, “I’m just fine James, now why don’t you go
out and play?” She knew he was beyond
that now, he was the man of the house.
She could no longer treat him as a child.
“It’s not FAIR!” She thought to herself.
But then again, life is not fair
sometimes. You take what comes and make
the best of it.
“I’m gonna’ go do the chores. I’ll be back when I get done.” James said
over his shoulder on his way out the door.
Louise watched him go, so small, walking as tall as he could be into the end of this day after Carl’s funeral. She waited dinner until the younger children were almost out of control and fed them. She put James’ dinner in the oven to keep it warm because she knew she could not call him. He had to finish his work in his own time now. She knew that, but wondered what was taking him so long.
And then, as she sat and rocked
quietly, she heard what she thought were shots from a small caliber rifle
outside, not loud but a definite crack. She went to the door and saw James, a solitary figure now, silhouetted
against the evening sky, hitting one stone after another into the setting sun.
A childhood was gone.