A Disfiguring Education

I was watching a documentary about the Mad Bomber.  They were talking about his childhood.  There had been an accident with one of the first bombs he had ever made.  His grandfather, who had taught the boy how to make bombs, made a mistake with some of the dangerous chemicals they were working with.  The mixture had exploded in his face.  The narration explaining all this was intercut with grainy 8mm footage from the family's home movies, as well a dramatic re-enactment of the accident.  The grandfather's muffled screams could be heard coming from another room of the cramped, dark little apartment, while the boy cowered in a corner of the hallway, pressing his hands as tight as he could over his ears.

The grandfather refused to see a doctor after the incident, fearing that their bomb-making activities would be discovered.  He had been left with deep, disfiguring gashes on his face, and he had been nearly blinded by the chemicals that had gotten into his eyes.  Thereafter he used a pair of antique pocket binoculars to see, the kind where the lenses fold back and the thin little case snaps shut.  Sepia-toned photographs showed him standing in the sun, filmy cataracts over his eyes and his face spotted with black scars.

   

Pages of Winter

I was driving along a stretch of open road in the middle of winter.  I could see a snow covered field from my window.  It stretched off to the horizon where it mingled and faded into the light grey sky.  As I drove on, I saw a tree by the roadside.  It's dark branches were bare and it stood out in sharp contrast to the white landscape.  I felt drawn to this tree.  

I slowed down, and pulled off to the side of the road in front of it.  I got out of the car and clomped through the deep snow to the foot of the tree.  On one of the branches nearest to me, I could see a tiny little bud.  I cupped it delicately in my hand and watched as it blossomed into a white flower.  I looked up at the tree and saw that it was covered in these tiny buds.  The whole tree began to bloom with white flowers, softly fading the tree from my sight and blending it in with the snowy background.

I stood watching this, somewhat transfixed, when up a little ways across the road a black bear emerged from a snow drift, rearing up on its hind legs with a terrifying howl.  I hurried back to the car.  The tires struggled a little in the snow, but the car finally backed onto the road with a violent jerk.  I put the car into drive, straightened the wheel, and continued on my way.