I first saw the look when I was eleven. Un-prepared and underage, I stumbled down the steep hill onto the dry field below. The ringing from the 30-06 was bouncing back and forth inside my head while I ran up to my father. Ten feet later and I stop dead in my tracks, everything around me blurs except the eyes. Unfocused and jet black, rolling slightly as if trying to find a lucid form. Left, right, up, down.... The oddest thing was that I could actually watch the poor things attempt to focus, big, small the pupils contracted in one last attempt at clarity. Then came the all familiar echo of a second shot, and the eyes went blank...
It's now 7:45 pm thirteen years later on the first day of the coming summer. It's still light out, and it's not raining. For the first time in weeks I feel like actually walking somewhere. The light from the setting sun, shinning through the clouds makes everything a sharp neon. It's moments like this walk, when I'm alone, that I remember why I like Eugene.
Up to the cash only, high traffic convenience store that makes it's money selling beer, smokes, and the occassional snack. "Whatever," I shrug, "it's the only thing close. Past the laughing men on the street, obviously drunk, the man in the wheelchair nods at me. I've seen him before, and I like his spirit. I smile back.
Five minutes later, and still inside the store I notice the laughter has stopped. I tuck the dollar into my pocket, ready to hand it off to the old man the second he asks. I walk through the door and take a right.
There it is again. Out of focus, slowly, looking left, starting at the ground. Expand, then contract his eyes dart up, over my body, and then to the right. With each quick/slow pass his pupils change size. Then snap, a second later they focus, he looks me in the eyes, little blue windows of clarity.
"I love you Brother!!!!" he says and smiles. I say "you too," smile, and walk off haunted by how close to death the poor soul looked. Walking back to the house all I can think about is his missing leg, his Vietnam Vet patch, and combat fatigues, and that look... A casuality of a harsh reality, at least he can still say the word love.
It's now 7:45 pm thirteen years later on the first day of the coming summer. It's still light out, and it's not raining. For the first time in weeks I feel like actually walking somewhere. The light from the setting sun, shinning through the clouds makes everything a sharp neon. It's moments like this walk, when I'm alone, that I remember why I like Eugene.
Up to the cash only, high traffic convenience store that makes it's money selling beer, smokes, and the occassional snack. "Whatever," I shrug, "it's the only thing close. Past the laughing men on the street, obviously drunk, the man in the wheelchair nods at me. I've seen him before, and I like his spirit. I smile back.
Five minutes later, and still inside the store I notice the laughter has stopped. I tuck the dollar into my pocket, ready to hand it off to the old man the second he asks. I walk through the door and take a right.
There it is again. Out of focus, slowly, looking left, starting at the ground. Expand, then contract his eyes dart up, over my body, and then to the right. With each quick/slow pass his pupils change size. Then snap, a second later they focus, he looks me in the eyes, little blue windows of clarity.
"I love you Brother!!!!" he says and smiles. I say "you too," smile, and walk off haunted by how close to death the poor soul looked. Walking back to the house all I can think about is his missing leg, his Vietnam Vet patch, and combat fatigues, and that look... A casuality of a harsh reality, at least he can still say the word love.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
I'll have to establish a blacksmithing setup when I'm without power, it should be a learning experience: getting back to more primitive metalworking styles.
have you been able to do any artwork recently? all I've had time for is sketches