OCR Text |
Show Moon - 234 into the net. A second coming arrived on bumper stickers. Jesus was Relevant. Now God is being marketed in the package of post-hippie folk music or moral majority-take your pick. I can't get there from here. Somewhere underneath all the noise is silence, and in that silence, a seed from which could grow a tiny knowledge of God. The boys never had to face the draft, having been lucky in the lottery. They went their separate ways-the obligatory hitchhikes to New Mexico and California, stints on communes, backpacking in Europe, many peace marches- and now they stay in our cottage, which the three of us inherited from James. They've been living frugally off their share of James's life insurance. The fireplace is spreading ashes out from itself like an alluvial fan. A young woman with her hair in a long thick braid pads into the room on bare feet, her long cotton dress held off the floor to keep from tripping. She looks at me with far-away eyes. Caleb says, "This is my sister." She says "Peace," in the quaint way of flower children, and continues on to the kitchen. Caleb and I sit in the livingroom in awkward silence, for he and I never have a lot to say when we're alone together; I'm not sure why. But it's good just to see his shy smiles and the wonderful intelligence in his fine green eyes. He has a beard now, like Josh's, and I see for the first time how much they look alike. Love is a net cast into history, dragging up everything that's come before. The young woman with the long braid comes back from the kitchen. This time she forgets and trips on the hem of her skirt. She'd be quite pretty if her eyes weren't so vague and unfocused. Lee comes into the house carrying a guitar. He smiles, hugs me, then kisses her on the forehead. I feel a little stab of jealousy. Family members are like cats. They seem to like having you around, |