More than fifty years later, I still think about the sparrow I shot and killed when I was a boy, and how, in one brutal, life-changing instant, it fell from our walnut tree and landed on the ground. Even now, I remember its tightly shut eyes and colorful feathers, which from a distance had seemed drab and gray, and the little grave I dug and placed it in.
Thank goodness I was never a soldier.
Snowing again. Last year, our apricot tree was in full bloom on the ninth day of March. This year, the buds are still tightly closed.
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Categories: Daybook
Tags: Memory, Snow, War, Childhood, Apricots, Gratitude, Sparrows, Soldiers, Walnuts
William Michaelian 