God must have given us skin for friction, to keep the air from overtaking us, to keep gravity on our side. If not for our skin, the g-force might come tearing through the marrow of our bones and cast us into a darkness so vast not even God could find us. Yet there are times when not even skin is enough to keep out the forces that have no name.
* * * * *
When the girl was eight or nine years old and knew just enough about gravity and acceleration to swing an axe, she got it into her head to play Russian Roulette with a green lizard as it ran in dizzying circles up a palm tree in her backyard. She swung at the trunk carelessly, wondering--the way one might wonder as she tosses a wad of paper in the general direction of a trash can--if she'd hit the lizard.
Hold on.
Yes?
What were you doing with an axe?
You mean why did I, a young child, have access to an axe? Or do you mean where were my parents? Or why did I select an axe as opposed to a net or something more benign?
Yes.
Because of gravity. I was falling away from my mother, and my life was hurtling towards me. I grabbed what was nearby; I held on to whatever couldn't escape.
The blade bit into the soft wood, once at her hips, again at her elbows, and then a final time at her shoulders, where the silver edge sunk through cool green skin, the lizard's head easily bisected, the ripe red jelly of its blood inching up both sides of the blade as its pinprick black eyes bulged and its tail twitched like a hamster's pulse.
Because of gravity. I was falling away from my mother, and my life was hurtling towards me. I grabbed what was nearby; I held on to whatever couldn't escape.
The blade bit into the soft wood, once at her hips, again at her elbows, and then a final time at her shoulders, where the silver edge sunk through cool green skin, the lizard's head easily bisected, the ripe red jelly of its blood inching up both sides of the blade as its pinprick black eyes bulged and its tail twitched like a hamster's pulse.
Jesus!
Wasn't there. But to his credit, neither was the devil.
Her mouth fell open first, her jaw muscles sacrificing their strength to gravity. Her hands and arms followed, but the axe remained stuck in the tree, nearly parallel with the Earth's curve. And for a few minutes, she swayed beside the dying, now dead, lizard and the seemingly oblivious palm tree and the innocent axe, and she tried to rewind time, but she was falling too fast, and there was nothing left to hold onto.
That's a bit dramatic.
Is it?
What did you do with the lizard?
I buried it. I hope.
You don't remember?
Isn't that sad? How memory, too, is victim to the forces that push and pull? Perhaps feeling is the only force with enough constancy to matter.
Wasn't there. But to his credit, neither was the devil.
Her mouth fell open first, her jaw muscles sacrificing their strength to gravity. Her hands and arms followed, but the axe remained stuck in the tree, nearly parallel with the Earth's curve. And for a few minutes, she swayed beside the dying, now dead, lizard and the seemingly oblivious palm tree and the innocent axe, and she tried to rewind time, but she was falling too fast, and there was nothing left to hold onto.
That's a bit dramatic.
Is it?
What did you do with the lizard?
I buried it. I hope.
You don't remember?
Isn't that sad? How memory, too, is victim to the forces that push and pull? Perhaps feeling is the only force with enough constancy to matter.
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