| Wasssssabbii! No... I mean, Sabaidii thook qon, As many of you have witness, I was granted a permission from TheDeon to entertain every body on behave of his temporary absented from SJD. Hey Deon! I am glad to hear that you are not mad and also its good to hear that you're all for love. Cool bean bro! Ok... I stop now. As usual, I have a story to share with everyone on this wonderful Friday morning. Broken I hit a deer last night. It was about 12:00 PM, and I was driving to the airport to pick up my mother who just gets back from her friend funeral in Toronto Canada. There are no streetlights there; I couldn't see any farther than the edge of my headlights. Suddenly it was there, in the road directly in front of me. I hit the brakes hard and the little deer darted first left, then back right. I couldn't stop, so I swerved, hoping to pass over it without crushing it under the wheels... but I he! ! ard a soft thump from beneath the car. I looked back in the mirror, but saw nothing in the street. I kept hoping that I hadn't hit it, but I knew that I had. I turned the car around in the middle of the street and drove back slowly. The deer was lying in the middle of the other lane, motionless. I pulled into a side of the road and got out of the car. The little deer's eyes were still open, but it wasn't moving. I put my hand down on its chest, but I couldn't feel anything. As gently as I could, I slipped my hand beneath its body and picked it up. There was no blood, and no visible scars. But when I lifted the little deer up, it felt... broken. I can't describe it any other way. Warm, soft, beautiful... but limp and broken, like a rag doll. I laid the little deer down in the grass alongside the road. I felt terrible. I walked back to my car. By now a string of traffic was passing by in the other direction, away from the airport. Its l! ! ate, I know that my mother would be waiting for me. I drove over to the airport slowly. Mother was outside at the passenger pick up’s area waiting patiently. She saw me pull up and walked over to the car, smiling. "I'm sorry I'm late," I said. "I hit the deer." The smile disappeared. "Oh..." she said quietly. "Did it die?" "Yes," I said. I told her how I had picked it up, laid its body in the grass... "Are you sure it's die? Because sometimes the animals..." she struggled for the word. "Stunned," I said. "I know, sometimes they're stunned, and it looks like they're dead. But I'm pretty sure it really is dead." "I think you should check again," she said. I agreed, because I really didn't want it to be dead... I really wanted to go back and find the deer breathing again. We drove back down the street. I got out of the car, and it took me a minute to find it. I picked it up again, and I knew for certain... As I walke! ! d back to the car the same word kept echoing in my head: Broken. Mother was still sitting in the car, with the window rolled down. I cradled the little deer in my arms, not wanting to look up at her. And as I was looking down at the little deer, this gentle, broken creature, I heard my mother's voice: "I think now it's okay," she said. I looked up, surprised; because I knew she was wrong... it was dead. But when I looked at my mother, there were tears on her cheeks. "Now it doesn't have to worry anymore," she said quietly. "It doesn't have to worry about, how can it find something to eat, where can it go to live, where to sleep..." When I hear these words, I want to cry, too. I am looking at my mother, and the same word comes back to me again: Broken. Suddenly I am bitter, angry, and sad. I feel like a knife has been thrust into my chest. I am holding the little deer in my arms, and I am thinking: Thi! ! s is what they have done to her. This is what they have done to my mother. They have given her this view of life: Fear, pain, and suffering. This is the gift given to her by the Laos Issara, and by a thousand other ideologues and fools and common murderers. They have taken away her husband, her family, and they have left her with this: The belief that death is the best thing we can hope for. I put the little deer in the car, and we drove to the forest preserve. I stopped the car and pressed my ear to the deer's chest for a long time. There was no sound. In the darkness I walked into the woods and laid the deer's body under a tree. I held my mother's hand as we drove home. Sometimes it's hard to let go... there is always the fear that the breaks haven't mended. Those of us who were fortunate, those of us who did not suffer these things, hold the survivors as though our embrace is all that binds the pieces of their shattered lives toget! ! her. I know that mother is stronger than she seems. That is why she is still alive. Her scars are from long ago. I think I am not as strong. I can still feel the weight of a small, soft animal, motionless in my hands, and I keep hearing those words: "I think now it's okay..." Have a good weekend, Amp - (The Bor Penn Ngung people) _____________________________________________________________ = You want FREE web-based email ? = You want your own @qon.lao.net address?? = Then you want LaoNet's WebMail ! = Get it at http://webmail.lao.net !! |