Emotional Writing

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October 15, 1954



"I don't want to go to the party Dad!" "Look Son, do it for me, okay?" "Ah, I don't feel happy, I really don't." My voice trailed off to a mumble and I grabbed the bedspread and squeezed it as I lay on my bed; on my belly; in my room. My Dad sat down next to me and placed his left hand on my back and began to massage it. "You've got to start getting out of the house son, you can't just lay in here forever. All your friends are coming. I'll be there, It'll be fun, come on, your going."

The party went great, everyone had a good time including my Dad. A lot of cake, white with pink and red frosting and my name on it. With chocolate chip ice cream. Coke for everyone and some great presents for me wrapped in white, yellow and every color one can think of. I was now out behind my house with my best friend hunting for birds in the orange groves. We were both tow-heads with blue eyes, we looked related, walking between the trees we saw a blue jay dive down inside one of the orange trees up ahead of us. It was hiding inside all the thick green leaves and clustered brown and dark branches. I could hear it move when I was next to the tree. "Do you see it yet." I said in a whisper to my friend. "Nah", my friend replied. "Maybe if I poke the barrel inside the leaves and stuff." I very slowly and carefully poked the barrel of my handsome gun inside the outer layer of leaves and saw the eye of the bird blink. A big black eye with a lighter colored eye-lid. I moved the barrel slightly in the birds direction and fired. A great racket started, the frantic flapping of wings and the sickly squeak of the bird, as much as the bird flapped his wings he couldn't fly high in the sky anymore and his body fell to the ground near my feet. It squeaked and flapped slower and slower. I knelt down and tried to pick it up to take it inside so my dad could fix it. "Look at it's color!" I remarked. My friend starred at the blue jay that was once pulsating with blue and violet living colors and those colors faded gradually to a dead charcoal blue. I laid the bird down and screamed. " I didn't mean it, I really didn't. I'm sorry!" I started to cry and my friend started to cry. I hit my gun against the tree trunk and it split in two. Then I ran back home. My friend followed.

My Dad was sitting in his favorite chair when I ran in and up to him throwing my arms around him sobbing. "Dad, Dad, I didn't mean to kill it, I really didn't. I hate death, hate it, hate it, I broke that stupid gun, I hate it." As I spoke I pounded my fist into my fathers shoulder. My friend stood behind me crying. "What happened son." My friend blurted out, "He shot a bird and it died!" I stood up in front of my friend and screamed, "I did not, it was a mistake, "tears streaming down my cheeks. "Get out of here now you, go home," My friend turned around sharply and ran out the front door. I stood there looking at the open door for a long time, sobbing. My Father sat there in silence and waited. I finally fell, belly-down onto our carpet. I pounded my left fist into the carpet crying and screaming," I hate death; I hate it!" After a long time I grew silent and the room grew dark. My Dad finally said, "It's okay son, it was only a bird and it went to animal heaven. I made the same mistake when I was your age. With a sharpshooter too. Remember what your mom used to say, everything has it's season, well the bird has had his time. He was probably and old bird anyway. Shoot, I've seen birds fall out of the sky on the wing, hit the ground, dead as the concrete they lay on. They get heart attacks, just like we do" I waited a long time to answer, mulling things over and finally said in a trembling low voice," I don't want to remember mom. Is that okay, I hope mom isn't mad or anything because of it, but it just hurt's- too -much." " I know son, we both loved mom very , very much. No, mom won't care, you no how mom was, she is up there right now saying now son, don't you worry after me, just go out and have fun with your life. I'll always be beside you and never leave you until, one day a long time from now. you join me.

My Father waited in silence until he thought it was time for me to go to bed and turned on the light. I lay there pretending to be fast asleep. “ Poor little guy." He said to himself softly." He is all tuckered out." My Father scooped me up gently and put me to bed. I had one last thought before I dozed off. We got to bury that bird tomorrow.


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