Nature New Hampshire Wildflower Magazine | Page 9

was. All three were adrift without him. They found him though, halfway between where they played together and the main road, staring down at the ground in the distance, as if for the 42 years of his life he had been there like a statue.

Calling his name, “Daddy!”, and silence was his reply. The noise of British cars on the nearby main road muffled his ears, and blocked out the sound of their voices. The children took one foot after another and sped up closer, even more curious now in a race to have their father’s attention. His name was called again and again. The children slinked up to their papa, and were noticeably 3 feet shorter now, saw his deep brown eyes immovable from the ground. Softly as the foreground of their father’s silhouette deepened in the evening light, all was still as hard to see up close now.

The three children jumped behind their Dad’s thighs when they saw the teeth and fur of a brown and white dog laying and decaying on his side.

Father, rolled his head to his children, and saw his eyes now beholding them. His head approached his children, and the arch in his back was bowed, turning to them to kneel in unconditional silence in the soft silhouetted illuminations of the evening light. He kissed his sons and hugged them all.

6