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Still, after reflecting, capacities rearmed & maps redrawn with borders originally assumed insurmountable extended & abbreviated alike, our strapping lad charges back into the fray, confident now he has a measure on Things, wilderness charted with no more unpleasant surprises waiting. We watch our young buck march bravely on, maintaining an impressive batting average while valiantly fighting off the twists & turns of his path with a smile on his face & song in his heart. Yet observe reader how, after enough time has passed, that grin falters, weight shifting without warning to either side of a glowing countenance like the playground see-saw: up down, up down back & forth over & over & over again. Notice how his step goes too, at first faultless, forging on ahead in a straight line as if no obstacle, anthill nor pothole, can drive those boots astray. Stumbling off course malfunctioning movements too subtle to detect before becoming too glaring to ignore, clubfooted kicks shooting up. ‘It is supposed to be that way?’ she asked. ‘Is what supposed to be that way?’ ‘THAT!’ she said, pointing at the tiny lumps between my legs. I was suddenly embarrassed and I had no idea why, I pretended to not know what she was talking about, grabbing again at the rope to swing out and drop in the water. I sneaked a couple of glances at her after that, she looked the same as me until…I looked THERE! But I forgot about that in short order, the farm and work called as my Mom rang the bell to call us to the house. Sometimes Sarah and I would wrestle too, she really had no trouble at all handling me, delighting in taking me down and tickling me until I would scream. She always stopped before I cried, she always was careful to not hurt me. One day we were wrestling up in the hay loft, she was pressing my arms back and I resisted. I began to get the edge, somehow I was now bigger and stronger than her. I pinned her that day in victory, the first time ever. I remember the flushed look on.
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