And I can hear the twittering of birds - what
sort of birds I don't know, perhaps just little sparrows.
Now there's the sound of a helicopter, a Huey by the
sound it makes - a regular thump thump thump - that takes
me back to Vietnam in the '60s.
I see a fisherman waist deep in water casting
his net in a huge circular pattern then wading out to see
if he has a catch.
And I look out at the rocks showing above the
water and can see my daughter Jennifer paddling there
when she was 2-years old. And I can see her looking out
over the restaurant railing, or standing under the shower
by the stairs that lead to the beach.
If you think this is just a second childhood all
I can say is that it should have come years ago - it is
the reason I never want to leave the
Later . . . back at the house in Baccuit
just south of Bali Hai Beach
I look out the back window from the kitchen and
see a huge caribou with its calf. The calf is paddling in
a pool of muddy water that is surrounded by chickens.
From the front I can see another caribou, this one is
dragging an old-fashioned plow through a paddock with the
farmer walking along behind giving orders. There is a
faint smell of caribou poo but it doesn't bother me. In
fact it reminds me of the days when I had to collect
buckets of moo-poo for my Dad's garden.
And I'm re-reading the book "How to Write
with the Skill of a Master and the Genius of a Child"
by Marshall J.Cook. He, like Bradbury, emphasizes seeing
the world through the eyes of a child, seeing with
wide-eyed wonder, seeing with zest and gusto and
curiosity. There is no better way.
Thank you Ray Bradbury.
And thank you Philippines!
Copyright © 2007 Allan