On the Divinity of Second Chances Read Online Free PDF Page B

a couple steps up the trunk and shifted my jeans higher. I took a few more steps and shifted the jeans again. Before long, I was in the crook of her first large branch. I felt at home. That’s how my idea for a tree house began.
    The night the first phase of my tree house was done, a huge thunderstorm set in. I knew a tree was not a safe place to be in a storm like that, so I stayed. I stayed and hoped I would be struck dead. I wasn’t.
    The next day, I thought I would check on Lightning Bob. I don’t know how many hours it took me to walk to his tower. When I arrived, he walked out onto his deck and waved at me. His dog, Flash, ran down to greet me and herd me up the stairs.
    “Good to see you! Good to see you!” Lightning Bob called out to me. I figured Lightning Bob probably thought it was good to see anyone.
    I waved as I walked up the stairs.
    “Cribbage?” Lightning Bob proposed.
    I nodded. This time I made an earnest attempt to learn the game. Since I wouldn’t talk, Lightning Bob had to read my cards or points for me after each hand.
    “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four! You’re catching up!”
    I looked at his calendar. Seven tally marks from the night before for a grand total of 544. I held up seven fingers and gave him an astounded look. “Yes, seven,” he said. “I wrote a poem about it.” He didn’t ask if I wanted to hear it. He simply dug out the notebook from under his cot, opened to the last page with ink on it, and read, “ ‘The Big Storm’ ”:
    “My hair stands up
My heart beats fast
When I see the flash
When I hear the crash
     
    “I scream, I jump
I dance around
When I hear that scary
Thundering sound.”
    When he was done, I slipped him the piece of paper I had in my pocket and bolted before he could read mine.
    It is God’s big chance
To strike me down
For the sins I have committed.
The bolts, like bullets
In Russian roulette,
Or from an executioner’s gun
Miss me tonight
For reasons I don’t understand.
    Now, I come down out of the tree for thunderstorms.
    I work leather with a bone awl and needle. I tanned the leather myself and made my own tools. I’m going to make Jade a pair of moccasins for her birthday this year. It doesn’t feel too early to get started. She hardly ever wears shoes. I like that about her. Sometimes, though, you have to wear shoes, and if you have to wear shoes, at least wear ones where you can feel the earth (or grocery store floor) under your feet. I love her birthday. It’s the one time of year I go into town and stay for a couple weeks. I have two tree houses there. My favorite one is right by the base of the chairlifts. Every year on or around Jade’s birthday, there’s always an outdoor concert going on out there. We have the best seat in the house. Last year, Los Lobos played, and the year before, Buddy Guy. I don’t know who’s playing this year.
    I take a porcupine quill off my windowsill and bead it onto the top of the moccasin. I got these quills by throwing my coat on top of a porcupine and then just pulling the coat off him. Many people think porcupines shoot their quills, but they don’t. The quills, like cacti, have barbs that get stuck in anything that touches them. I made this big score yesterday. I thanked the porcupine and offered it some much-coveted cornmeal as payment, just like Grandma’s friend Hazel would have done. The porcupine waddled away from me, mumbling, leaving the cornmeal. Still, the cornmeal was a gesture, and I like to think intention counts.
    Just like it was never my intention to kill anyone except a chicken house full of hens.
    My moccasins are elk. I skinned some roadkill four years ago. I like to climb trees barefoot, but down there, these moccasins ease my mind with rattlesnakes and all. You have to really watch for babies in the spring because when a baby bites you, it releases all its venom, whereas an adult does not; adults budget theirs. Babies haven’t developed rattles yet either, so they’re