I have never been a believer in or supporter of war and it's kin. So, it was not without a fair amount of shock and consternation when I experienced an almost blinding rage, although of an infinitesimal tiny duration, but nonetheless real. While strolling at the farm where we pick up our CSA, with my aunt and holding Maisie, a young farm camper, maybe 8 years old, wearing an old man-style crusher hat, glasses and sandals with socks, ran a serpentine pattern, crossing in front of us and "firing" his gun ( a tree limb) at point blank range directly at us. He clearly saw the "whites of our eyes" and displayed no remorse or thought of consequence. Almost immediately his father spoke to him and he ceased fire, marching to the barn, dejected. I was relieved to hear the father's reprimand.
However, I felt my internal reaction was extreme. Perhaps it was my instinctual self priming my parasympathetic nervous system for "fight" to protect those I love, my sole remaining blood relation not of my generation, and my child. Either way, I was unnerved-by my response and by the invasiveness of violence in such a buccolic place and perpetrated by an innocent child spending his days learning about sustainabilty and respect for living things. Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
No comments:
Post a Comment