There were not many happy times with my father. He was an abusive man, and as my brother and I got older, the abuse got worse. But things weren't always that way..
When I was seven or eight, my father worked as a park ranger and he knew the woods in and out. Sometimes, he would take us camping. It was real camping, primitive, and we all lived in the heart of the woods for days at a time.
He took me on a walk with him. It was just he and I. We came upon a bush with red berries. At home, we had all kinds of bushes with red berries, but you were never supposed to eat them. He plucked off a berry and told me to put it into my mouth. I hesitated, wondering if this was a trick. The flavor was familiar, but I could not place it. He told me they were wintergreen berries.
They were wonderful. I had never tasted real wintergreen before. They tasted like the sun shining in cool air. We picked a handful, and went on our way. It was the first and last time I had ever seen a wintergreen bush..
When I was seven or eight, my father worked as a park ranger and he knew the woods in and out. Sometimes, he would take us camping. It was real camping, primitive, and we all lived in the heart of the woods for days at a time.
He took me on a walk with him. It was just he and I. We came upon a bush with red berries. At home, we had all kinds of bushes with red berries, but you were never supposed to eat them. He plucked off a berry and told me to put it into my mouth. I hesitated, wondering if this was a trick. The flavor was familiar, but I could not place it. He told me they were wintergreen berries.
They were wonderful. I had never tasted real wintergreen before. They tasted like the sun shining in cool air. We picked a handful, and went on our way. It was the first and last time I had ever seen a wintergreen bush..
~
red stains
on my father's
only smile
red stains
on my father's
only smile