Augie was hurtling toward the floor. I watched frame by
frame as he landed on his face. On part of a deer skull. With antlers attached. Amid
loud, indignant sobs, he clamped both hands tightly over his right eye. I pulled
him into my lap, held him, rocked him. Meanwhile, Peter begged, “Let me see
your face.” Finally we saw: A large bruise was forming an inch below the eye. We
shared a look that said omigod, that was
close. As we left, I reached to help Augie down from another bench. “Grandma,”
he said, “I didn’t hurt my legs.”
Mr. London Street has returned to writing his lovely 100-word posts, something at which he excels. When this real-life adventure happened yesterday,
I decided to try writing about it in exactly 100 words. You’ll just have to
accept that antlers of various sizes are a popular part of our local nature
center’s hands-on learning tools. Augie is fine; Peter and I are still a bit shaken.
