A most trusted friend of mine died about two months ago. RIP Jerry Lee York. I miss you terribly, but am filled with gratitude for the many wonderful times/experiences we had together. I hope to share some of them on my blog someday, but for now, it's too painful.
So today, I want to share a short-story based on a saga told in our neighborhood, about Mrs. Perkins & Timmy.
Humming my favorite hymn, ‘Amazing Grace,’ I stand at my kitchen sink washing my few lunch dishes.
Below me in the small ravine, I see a bunch of neighborhood boys splashing in the small pond. One in particular has an ear piercing scream that annoys me. His mother defends him by stating Timmy is autistic, but I've observed this wild child from the age of five, when I first moved to northwest Michigan. I don’t think there is anything wrong with this boy that direction and a strict set of rules wouldn't cure.
Now, one of the older boys is climbing out of the muddy water. He laughs as he slips and slides back in. Two others join him and all climb out at the same time. They turn toward Timmy and wave goodbye. He shrieks something in return. I don’t blame them for getting away from this annoying animal.
I turn to the utility closet and grab a broom. The floor isn't dirty, but I sweep it every day, no matter what. I’ll not be a dirty pig like, so many of the scum in this neighborhood.
Timmy in the pond below, continues to utter his monkey-sounds. What kind of parents would allow any child to swim in this disgusting water, anyway?
Once, I climbed down the embankment. It wasn't easy for this 60-year-old body, especially with my bum knees. I’d gained a few pounds during the winter, which didn't help matters either. When I reached the pond’s edge, I observed water snakes and turtles poking their heads out of the surface. It was a mosquito haven, so I didn't last long. I soon labored up the steep incline, grabbing at the thick bushes and tree roots, to facilitate my ascent.
Washing my hands at the sink now, I see Timmy attempting to climb out the slick muddy edge of the pond. He slips and tries again. Then again. He’s yelling so loud you’d think someone would check up on him, but since he screams all the time, no one probably thinks he’s in need of help.
I hasten out of the kitchen and into my living room. Clicking on the TV to block out Timmy’s incessant shrieks. FOX news has two talking heads, arguing about gun control. It’s more than I can handle and click it off.
It’s quiet. Very quiet. I hurry to the kitchen window and stare down at the pond. The water is still. Timmy must have climbed out, but I don’t hear him yelling at his parents’ home across the street.
I bow my head and thank God for this peacefulness. Timmy is quiet.
My book signing at a gallery here, was wonderful. Wish you could all have been here to share this experience with me. Jerry would have been so proud.
Visions of Evil is available both in paperback and Kindle at Amazon.com.
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Until next time...