Friday, June 22, 2012

Cold Sunlight

 ((…spring of 1977) (or, ‘Shawn’s Ice-cream cone’))

There was a chill outside of the second floor apartment window, in the Army Housing area on Babenhausen Caserne; Shawn’s father was a Sergeant, stationed in West Germany, it was the spring of 1977. A tremor passed over his body.  He wanted to yell quietly, not for himself, but for, or at the boy trying to grab Shawn’s ice-cream cone out of his hands.
       The chilled spring sunlight was weaker in the morning, it was forenoon, “It’s for my brother,” Shawn told the boy, who was standing in front of him.
       Shawn’s mouth was hot and dry, so with the cone in his right hand he licked the top of the ice-cream. He was glad for his mouth. Shawn acted as if Cody his twin brother would be there any minute; he was five and half years old.
       “Give me that other cone,” demanded the seven year old boy, he told Shawn and that he would hit him if he didn’t, any time soon.
       Then Shawn must had thought a moment, he had an odd look on his face—while holding those two cones, one in each hand—; his father thinking, then saying, out loud, in a near whisper, ‘What could be on his mind.’
       “O, I see,” he said, as Shawn lifted up his right leg and positioned his foot—looking at the boy straight in his eyes—and  with a quick thrust, kicked the boy in the gut, as he bent over, gasping for air. It had been a straight solid kick, a karate kick his father had taught him, for such emergencies.
—I say! The father said out loud
—What? His wife questioned from the kitchen.
—You know, Shawn, he can kick pretty well.
—He can, can he! She questioned, in a statement form; really just an unconscious response.

       Then Shawn looked up at his father looking down at him from the window—his father was very proud. Cody had appeared, and the seven year old boy had taken off.  There was a big grin on Shawn’s face, as if he almost felt sorry for the kid, and that—unbelievable kick did it (as the father wondered if Shawn all the time knew he was watching, and should he not win the battle, he’d come to the rescue.)

#921 (6-14-2012)