I was his executioner.
A black patch circled his left eye. An all white Alpha Lergnom, Bo-Bo was a rascal.
No. He bordered on Evil.
No one liked him. But we were boys; we saw eye to eye. He liked me and I him.
Until.
Sandy was cool. Easy going. A Best Friend. Kept secrets.
Forever.
That Autumn Bo-Bo and Sandy chased back and forth, playing.
So it seemed.
A fire raged beside the path that dissected the Strawberry Patch from Mother’s Garden.
As they ran toward me along that Path of Fire, Bo-Bo tried to ram Sandy into the grasping flames. They singed his flowing, Collie coat.
“Dad, whatever happened to Bo-Bo?”
After a silence too long, he answered.
My eyes still tear recalling the looks on his face.
“I did not know that you remembered him.” His voice meshed anxiety, bewilderment and amazement. And a smidge of shame.
Continuing, that voice quivered for a twinkling, “Bo-Bo was too mean, Son. We only kept him because you liked each other. But one day you had an anger toward him that disturbed even me. It was as if something had changed overnight. We gave him to a family in the country.”
Yeah, something changed all right: His evil manifested.
Amazing a two year old’s Power of Executioner.
Amazing more that my Dad knew that I knew all that He knew that He thought I did not know.
But isn’t the greatest amazement this: A mere 2yr old knew right from wrong? Recognized evil and acted aright?
An action prompted by a recognition void of prior parental input.
A resident recognition.
Ever wonder how we arrive this way?
I wonder all the time…careful, my thoughts follow.
.
.
.
Lagniappe
.
.
The droplets lapped
At the banks of my Dreams
Lullying me awake.
They were her warm kisses.
“What are you thinking about, Dad?”
“The day your Mother infused me with your love.”
…………………………………………………………………………………… ~Oz Jaxxon
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