summer was dead, but autumn had not yet been born when the ibis came to the bleeding tree.It's strange that all this is so clear to me,now that time has had its way. but sometimes (like right now) i sit in the cool green parlor and i remember Doodle.
Doodle was about the craziest brother a boy ever had. Doodle was born when i was 7 and was, from the start, a disapointment. he seemed all head with a tiny body that was red and shriveled like a old man's. everyone thought he was going to die.
daddy had the carpenter build a little coffin, and when he was 3 months old, mama and daddy named him William Armstrong. such a name only sounds good on a tombstone.
when he crawled on the rug, he crawled backwards, as if he were stuck in reverse and could change gears. this made him look like a doodlebug, so i began to call him doodle. renaming my brother was probably the kindest thing i ever did for him, because nobody expect much from a kid named doodle. Daddy built him a cart and i had to pull him around. if i so much as picked up my hat, he'd start crying to go with me; and mama would call from wherever she was ," take Doodle with you"
so i dragged across the cottot field to share the beauty of Old Woman Swamp. i lifted him out and sat him on the soft grass. he began to cry.
"what's the matter?"
" its so pretty, Brother, so pretty"
after thatwe often went down to Old Woman Swamp.
there is inside me (and from what i've seen in others) a knot of curelty borne by the stream of love.And at times i was mean to Doodle. once i showed him his casket, telling him how we all thought he was going to die. when i made him touch the casket, he screamed. and even though we were outside in the bright sunshine, he clung to me, crying,
"Dont leave me, Brother! Dont leave me!"
Doodle was 7 when i turned 13. i was embarrassed at having a brother that age who couldn't walk. so i set out to teach him. We were down in Old Woman Swamp.
*part2 soon
By @satsuki
Good job