Urban Zombies

Another early morning. So far Xmas break feels about like any other week, though J. and I were able to sneak out last night, grab a couple of yellowtail hand rolls and pop into a mall for a few hours of shopping.

"I am done with my mall shopping." she said afterward with a bit of satisfied glee. I think anytime one who can say this understands it comes with a certain sense of relief.

D. and I are at her swim meet again this morning. Two events. They should go quickly. Watching her warm up from the bleachers I can't help but think of my own brief swim team experience.

Like an echo in my mind, "I'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me" loops over and over again.

We moved to Sewanee, TN when I was D.'s age. The move interrupted my swim team experience. I kept swimming for for one more year but the bullies made practice almost impossible. Every day I would come home with new bruises, towel welts, missing articles of clothing, flat bicycle tires and an assorted set of tears, stories in injustice and a deflated self esteem.

My Grandmother gave me a Daisy brand BB/pellet pistol when I was nine. When I gave up swimming I spent most of my time hiking around the woods behind our house taking aim at the myriad of targets to vent my frustration.

"What is it Daddy?"
"It is a bird, Baby."
"What happen to it?"
"I don't know, I think a cat might have mangled it."
"What do we do?"
"Well" I said with a sigh "I guess we will have to put it out of its misery."

I climbed into my car and took a pocket knife out of the glove box. D. watched on with a kind of clinical fascination as I lifted the blade in one hand even as I steadied the bird with my other.

"Will it hurt?"
"It is already suffering honey. We are going to put an end to it."

I reached down and drew the edge of the knife long its neck in one smooth gesture. I pulled my hand away. The body of the bird lay motionless for a moment.

"Is it dead?"
No sooner had I said yes when the body of the bird shuddered and came still. D. freaked out.
"What was that!" she shouted in near hysterics.
I grabbed her and put my arm around her. How do you explain the death shudder to a nine year old?

Walking though the woods with my gun I lifted the sights to the edge of a broken branch 20 yards away and squeezed the trigger. The "branch" fell off the tree and and began to flop and cry on the ground below. I had shot a bird. The pellet hit it in the head, but because the gun was not very powerful, and the shot had been taken from a distance, the bird was only wounded. I hadn't killed it.

I walked up to the bird. It was laying on a bed of leaves heaving great gulps of air, its chest rising and falling rhythmically. I felt like crying. I looked around. I was all alone. No one had seen it happen. I felt like running. The bird began to flop again. It totally freaked me out. Finally it came to a rest. I knew what I had to do. I lowered the sight of the gun level with the birds head. Its black eye seemed to stare right at me. Slowly I pulled the trigger.