Moses

This is the 7th vignette for book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, which was released 1/9/20 by Black Rose Writing. Moses is Monk’s father and one of the founders of the commune on which Monk grew up. Monk and Moses have a somewhat contentious relationship.

As a creature of habit, those habits betrayed me when I sought solitude. The old asparagus crate supported my butt as I leaned against the barn and watched the sun drift behinds the clouds to the west. It was peaceful and quiet and reminded me of my time alone sitting in the cabana in Virginia.

Like Virginia, it made it easier to be here on the farm.

Unfortunately, like Virginia, it was all too easy to find me, irrespective of my desire for solitude.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I looked to see my father, Moses, leaning against the corner of the barn.

“You know you’re welcome to join us? You don’t have to hide away,” he continued, a smile on his face.

“I’m not hiding away,” I said, “just enjoying a moment of solitude.”

He looked up at the clouds that had my attention. “Mind if I join you?”

I shook my head no.

He retreated and returned with a crate of his own, which he placed next to mine. He sat down and for a few uncomfortable moments we listened to the birds doing whatever it is birds do.

“It one of the reasons we came out here,” he said at last.

“What?”

“Solitude. Quiet.”

Moses, like my mother, Rebekah, was the product of a strict religious family that disdained the city and its evident vices. Naturally, as children of the 60’s, they rebelled and liberated themselves from the suffocating conservatism of the countryside and wallowed in the crapulence of the city with all those long-haired hippies and their radical ideas. The country never really left them, and so with the Mackinaw brothers and some others, they found themselves here in the wilds of Northern California. I often wondered if my mother would have remained had it not been for Moses’, at the time, ideas about love and sex, and his producing children with Meredith.

Thinking of my mother, as I knew her in Virginia, I couldn’t picture her staying either way.

“Don’t you tire of the city? The noise? All the people?” he asked, as he had every time I was dragged up here by Agnes.

“Nope,” was my answer each time, which I knew frustrated him.

“Yet I find you here enjoying what you can’t have in that hellhole of Los Angeles,” he harrumphed as he had many times before.

“Each has it own unique charms,” I assured him, whether he believed it or not.

“We seem to have reached our usual impasse on this.”

“We have,” I agreed.

A group of goats were aimlessly wandering around a fenced enclosure to our right. Maybe they sensed Moses’ presence and had expectations they did with my being near. I was perfectly content with that.

“Do you miss your farm?” he asked as the goat continued meandering our way.

“Nope.” That wasn’t entirely true, but I liked to goad him on the subject.

“I don’t believe you. Both Lilith and Rebekah told me you were good at it, that you put a lot of time and energy into it.” His turn to goad me.

“What else did I have to do?” which was true.

Moses sighed.

Which made me smile, which he noticed.

“You’re just like your mother sometimes, Sunshine,” he said smiling back.

It was my turn to sigh.

©2020 David William Pearce