The sun was so low it cast no more shadows near the waves that lapped at the sand lazily, quietly. Rocks and seaweed near the edge settled in a soft darkness. Humid, salty air filled with a cold dampness and Ed knew the fog would probably start rolling in at some point soon, possibly obscuring his view of the billboard in the sky. He suddenly got that feeling he once had when he was young, very young, maybe eight years old. The feeling he could will something to happen, if he just thought of it happening hard enough.
He was looking out the kitchen window, towards the back yard. What had drawn his attention was his father's yells of "God damn it," and "We're infested."
As a young Ed looked, he saw his father walking with the hand-operated lawnmower. An ancient yard tool that he'd told Ed was passed on generation to generation. The roller of blades was rusted and dull, but still worked well enough to chop grass in jagged strips thirteen inches long. As his father pushed the mower, the family of frogs jumped ahead of it almost playfully. There seemed to be an extended family, dozens and dozens of them, but all of them a beautiful shiny green and muted brown, just like the grass. And Ed watched in horror and then numbness as his father ran over the frogs. Ed didn't close his eyes, as most kids might have, he stared in an attempt to save the frogs with his mind and willpower. First he stared at the last remaining frogs jumping in front of the mower, willing them to survive. But as his father moved the mower over two of them, Ed switched his gaze to his father...and willed his father dead. The last three frogs jumped and jumped, one of them got smart enough to jump to the side, but Ed's father just moved the mower over slightly, creating a small curve in the cut grass that would haunt Ed until the grass got cut again weeks and weeks later.
As his father finished up the task, he came inside the kitchen to get a tall glass of water. Looking over at Ed, and noticing the angry, questioning look on Ed's face, his father simply mumbled "That right there is the best way to fertilize a lawn." And then he belched and laughed a low laugh.
The tears on Ed's face were cold as the warmth of the fog drifting in from the ocean held Ed's face in its hands. The fog swirled around him, like a mower swerving to hit a frog, as all around Ed danced the remaining thoughts of jumping frogs, willpower, and hope.
Gazing up at where the billboard in the sky would be, Ed saw the fog was not completely blocking the moon, so there was hope he'd see the lighted letters.
"I will have to forgive my father for what he did." Ed thought as he waited for the ten minute therapy sessions that came each time the billboard in the sky blinked on. "I will have to forgive him for the frogs, and for me."
Posted by nft at August 8, 2004 01:19 PM