Not long ago, right after I completed work on Miles’s nightmarish play center, I had a vision. Whether merely a fitful daydream or a grave vision of things to come, I am not certain. However, it was vivid and, I assume, the sort of thing that occurs to every parent watching their child play in the yard.
The vision was this: I was on the back patio, watching Miles play merrily outside when, suddenly, a hawk swooped out of the sky, hoisted him up by his shoulders, and flew off with him in tow. And, as they gradually vanished from sight, Miles never cried out or shed a tear. He simply pointed at the hawk and said, “Buh! Buh!” over and over.
I felt a deep concern swell in me as I saw my son snatched away, but then I thought about how much he loves birds. Watching him disappear into the distance, I said to myself, with a shrug, “Well, at least he’s happy.”
