Then and Now

Then.

It is always a spectacle.

It happens often these days; way too often if you would ask me. It is a sign of the never-changing times. It is view-worthy, call-your-friends kind of event. Ever since the first time Bill from Kingsbury Farm called me to see the first one, I can’t count how many others I have seen. I have probably seen too many for a generation. I am tired of seeing any more.

I didn’t mean to go, but I did. It was a cold, chilly evening. The air felt stale and the evening was silent. Suddenly, the dogs began barking. I was just a teenager. Papa came into the room with the lantern to check on Peter and me. The cold air bristling his hair backwards as he brought the lantern to his face.

“Are you OK?” he asked. His firm brow and stern hand masking his emotions. Papa was resolute but scared. Mama could be heard in the distance asking if we were OK. I turned to look at Peter, fast asleep. I nodded silently, pretending to be sleepy. We had just had dinner and were supposed to be fast asleep. Dad looked at me cautiously, as if knowing my curiosity would get the best of me.

He had known. He walked back to his and Mama’s room. His gait wearily dragged his big frame along, as he slowly disappeared with the lamp into the darkness. I could see his shadow recede. I waited a few minutes, then slowly opened the…