A Better Place by Bruce Blizard

Author:Bruce Blizard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian, Off Grid, Westers, Family, Coming of Age, Homeschool, unschooling
Publisher: Christian Books with an Edge
Published: 2018-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

I wonder.

Does fear come from some unknown place deep within us, or do we learn fear from those around us? Did fear draw me toward my mother or did it push her away? The princess had been warned, but she still shined a flickering light on her divine lover.

I remember.

After my father rode off to the south end of our place to shoot his rifle, I did something I hadn’t done since I was a very small child. I crawled into my mother’s lap. I suffered no lack of affection from either of my parents, but I also don’t remember too many times when that affection was demonstrated physically. My parents, especially my father and at particular times my mother, would often, as an expression of approval or concern, lay hands on me. I remember my father’s rough hands when he patted my thigh after he showed me how to use a tool or pulled my heel down to make sure my stirrups were the proper length. When I completed a new task just the way he had explained it to me, he would place his hand between my shoulder blades and nod once to indicate satisfaction and once again to indicate approval. My mother would occasionally put her hand on my forearm and lower her voice to focus my attention during a lesson or pat the back of my hand when I grew impatient or frustrated. She would sometimes massage the back of my neck when she was unsure of what to say.

In the mountains where we lived the passing of each season and the birth and death of each new day was clearly delineated by the natural rhythms of the earth and the sky.

Sunrise. Sunset. Swiftly flow...

I have since learned that most people live their entire lives in the absence of darkness. In the city the shadows cast by streetlights and neon signs create pockets of near dark into which most people never go. Other farms and ranches had powerful yard lights that cast a yellow circle, creating a cosmic fence that kept predators and scavengers away from houses and barns. Invisible coyotes would rustle the wheat stubble at the verge of the yellow circle, but, despite eternal hunger, they would not cross the stark margin into the unnatural light.

With no yard light, and with lights inside the house finally turned off, a deep and primal darkness would settle onto our place on moonless nights. I never left the house at night, but I would often stand on the back porch well before sunrise and stare into the void. I don’t know if my eyes adjusted to the blackness or whether I could discern a slight movement in the nearby trees because I already knew what was there. And the night often seemed tainted by a faint canine pungency. Sometimes I would try to penetrate the darkness with my father’s powerful flashlight. I would slowly sweep the light back and forth, but could never see anything other

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