A Bulls Head Missed

The grass in early summer always smelled so musky and sweet it called for me to run barefoot through the fields near my house. The wind bourne scent caressed my face as I stood upon the weathered oak porch of my childhood home. How I wished to roam free and not as a captive to the volatile world inside. Stepping back into that world was like voluntarily stepping on a landmine, but returning was not necessary yet. I still had a few minutes to fill my lungs with the wild breath of the countryside. A few minutes for the imagination to soar...

"Wyatt! Jay!" Mother's voice screeched out through the kitchen window. "Supper's ready!"

"Coming!"

I drank in one last breath of fresh air and rammed through the half-opened front door. The momentum carried me back behind the worn-out gray recliner and almost through the kitchen door. The salivating smell of smoldering spices wafted to me. With one foot in the realm of cooks and one in the living room, mother asked the only unwanted question.

"Where's your brother?"

I froze. The one thing older brothers were supposed to do is bring their younger brothers with them. The one person missing at that moment was my younger brother Jay.

"I dunno," was the only response I could muster.

"Well you better go back out there and find 'im or you'll be going without supper."

"But mom, I'm not my brother's keeper."

Mother's hand landed on her hip and her soft chestnut curls bounced. "You're darn right you aren't. If you were he'd be here already."

The bounce stopped, her eyes narrowed, and one finger pointed out the door.

"Now go fetch your brother."

I turned around in defeat. The battle was over as countless others had been before. The Mother was watching in total victory. Then before another step could be taken a shrill over-amplified voice called out from the other end of the porch.

"A bull with its head cut off!" Then the slight dark curly-headed figure of my brother bounced through the doorway. "There's a bull with its head cut off out there lemme show you."

"Jay, there's no bull without a head outside."

As mother said those words the image of a headless cow carcass filled my mind. For some reason, that image felt important as if there was a dark purpose behind brainless beef. Perhaps the meaning of life was found in maimed cattle.

"Yes, there is! There's a bull with his head cut off and I'll show 'im to you." Then Jay spun around and headed right back out into the sun's amber embrace.

As soon as Jay's twig of a body bounced out of sight we were on his heels headed out the front door. I bounded down the wooden porch like a rail car and leaped with all I had off the top step. My body felt weightless for one brief moment and then I fell back to earth in full pursuit of Jay. Mother hated when we did that, but for now, she remained silent and thus I was allowed one small act of rebellion. Still, Jay was only a cloud of dust shrinking down the gravel drive from us.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew with each step I took. Anticipation mingled with a mire of bleaker emotions had my gut knotted up. There was a part of me that did not want to see the carnage and yet I was drawn on by an unknown force. As if my entire short life had always been leading to that one moment.

Then there we were standing at the edge of our gravel drive. Mother left standing behind me and Jay searching back and forth among the taller golden grass.

"I know it was around here somewhere." He then threw himself into searching with even more ardor.

"Maybe you just thought you saw something, like a mirage," I offered.

"No, it really was here."

"Bull's heads can't go walking off on their own, babe."

A look of worry had crept up Mother's face and began to make creases in her brow.

"I really did find a bull with its head cut off mom."

"Alright. Wyatt let's help your brother search."

Then with a bit of empty belly angst, we began to look among the six-inch blades of switchgrass for a decapitated bull carcass. All I could think while we searched was that there's no way someone could lose something the size of a bull out here. Then...

"Here it is!"

Our eyes raised and there Jay stood before us in regal pride holding up by a shoe-string tail the limp black body of a runt field mouse in all his glory. In fact, the poor creature looked like it died of starvation. All the while a smile split Jay's face like the red sea and the tension that had been rising broke in floods of laughter.