“I’ve got to trust him,” he said out loud. Tom Dorsey better understood Millie’s predicament rearing the boy; Micah forces you to continuously question yourself and your methods. The difference: he would allow Micah to manage his own life, where his mother tried to reign him in. He might fail, but Millie’s method did fail.
Raggéd circled the boy as he ran. Micah pushed himself hard but not intentionally. His mind was elsewhere, in some netherworld that flowed in waves of light and darkness. This was the place of non-thinking. The boy discovered that if he thought about a problem too much, his mind would become chaotic. But switch his intellect to instinct and answers to his problems would come into focus and the solutions were clear; however, the roadmap on how to get there was not. He would still need to fill in the details, but that was the easy part.
Micah stopped and was once again calm and complete. The sun was just starting to drop below the horizon, and he noticed that he was not wearing his T-shirt, no longer carrying his rucksack. Raggéd jumped on him begging for attention. He squeezed the dog, sharing a profound love with the canine. His jog back was at a much slower pace. Half way to the ranch house, he found his shirt and pack. He stopped to eat and drink. Then he sensed a stranger, something not quite human, watching from a distance. The sun was now gone; the crescent moon provided a little light, but his night vision was acute, even more so since his sickness. The “thing” appeared semi-transparent, more like a ripple in the air. This was something else to add to his list of weirdness. He restarted his run, and after another hour, was back in the kitchen fixing a sandwich.
“On schedule,” the old man had heard Micah come into the house. “How far did you go?”
The old man appeared ill. “Around ten miles I think. With the run at school, that’s over 13 miles today.” Micah smiled at his achievement.
“You’re pushing too hard and not eating enough.” Tom was shouting. “What are you doing? Stop it. I mean it; you have got to slow down some. I’m not asking you to stay home and knit, but you’ve got to act responsibly. I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow. I want to make sure you’re alright. You are worrying me.” Tom Dorsey left the room.
Micah remained at the table wondering what caused the old man to explode; never had he yelled before. He walked into the office where Tom brooded. “I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what I did, but tell me and I’ll stop it. I’ll do whatever you want.” He studied Tom. They both were anxious and under a great deal of pressure.
The old man smiled and motioned him to come closer. “I want you to stay healthy. I’m probably over reacting. I just cannot go through another time like last December. We are still going to the doctor tomorrow, if for nothing else to alleviate my fears.”
The room filled with the scent of lavender. “You’re evolving,” Micah whispered and then rested his hand on top of Tom’s. “You are picking up on my mood; you’re reading me. See what I feel every day, just multiply it by a hundred. It can be crippling but also magnificent. I wish it didn’t happen to you, but in a way I’m glad, because now you can appreciate my struggle a little better.
Tom’s hands were shaking, his pulse racing. “Close your eyes,” Micah ordered when he sensed his mentor’s condition. Then he placed a hand over Mr. Dorsey’s heart, his voice soft, deep and resonant.
“Take deep breaths slowly and release them slowly. Tune in to my presence, my sound. Feel what I am saying: relief, calm, faith, happiness—no anxiety, no fear—only harmony, only blessings. We are serene and tranquil, surrounded by a palette of color: vibrant blues and yellows; dusty oranges and cool violets. Pigments flow through the sky like waves colliding on a beach and crashing upon well-worn rocks.
A gentle breeze cools our skin while singing the couplets and refrains of angels; absorb each word; every syllable circles around and becomes a firefly dancing over an azure sea. And we’re suspended above the deep, absorbing the wondrous sight, making it part of our being.
The wind rolls like a gigantic tidal surge: slowly, forcefully and full of fragrance—intoxicating. We become harmony; jasmine and rose blossoms rain down upon us infusing the world with a vibrant silence. A Celestial Lady dressed in white and blue stands upon the tumbling ocean and reaches toward us, her gentle touch absolves us; and we are free, existing together within a magical kingdom where time and space and thought bond in a beautiful unity.”
Micah stood up and stared into the large mirror over the fireplace, seeing himself with eyes that surged like liquid silver. Somehow he felt acknowledged as he turns to his elderly friend, who was relaxed, restored. “Are you better?”
“I am not sure what you just did, but it worked—some kind of hypnotism? I didn’t hear your words, I experienced them. It was incredible. Thank you.” Tom’s eyes remained closed as he spoke.
What happened was spontaneous. Micah’s hidden-other did the speaking and healing; he only provided the energy, and it wore him out. But he stayed with the old man, falling asleep on the floor beside the chair in which Tom was also slumbering.
At Nine o’clock Wednesday morning, Micah sat nearly nude on the doctor’s examination table. Mr. Dorsey rested in a chair across the room from the boy, and they waited for Dr. Reeves to come in.
“I need to be back at school by lunch time for PE. Coach Britt is depending on me for the 5K run and I’ve got to practice.” Micah needed to remind Tom of his commitment.
“Nothing else matters, just PE and your races?” He thought that was typical for a boy.
Micah grinned. “Not the only thing, I don’t know squat about racing, so this is important; and don’t forget about boxing practice and the horses. They’re also important.”
The door to the room opened and Dr. Reeves and his nurse came in. “You’re not dying are you?” He smiled as he looked at the boy.
“No, I’m good.”
“Then why are you here?” I’ve seen you more than any doctor should ever see a patient. I think you’re stalking me.” He opened Micah’s chart and studied it.
“No doc, it’s my fault. I just want to make sure he’s okay, and I had some questions. I’ve never parented a boy before, and he’s sort of a challenge.” Tom remained sitting.
The doctor took out his stethoscope and listened to the boy’s heart, and then returned to his chart. “His heart sounds good, and the bloodwork is showing a normal white blood cell count. The EKG looks normal. I’m happy with everything. As far as the Rheumatic Fever and his heart, we couldn’t ask for better. What are your concerns?”
“He seems to be growing too fast, abnormally so. Is that normal? And I don’t think he eats enough, so how’s his weight?” Tom stood up as he was speaking.
“He’s almost eleven; let’s see where he stands on his stature and weight. He is a big boy. Come over here and let me retake your weight and height.” Micah went to the scales. “Well, he weighs 120 pounds and he is 5’ 5” tall. So he falls within the upper limits for his age group. He’s not too thin and he is well proportioned. Get back on the table.” The doctor examined the boy’s muscle tone and his strength. “He’s building muscle mass; you can tell he’s working around the ranch. Micah, you run? Your calves are very well developed.”
“Yes sir, I’m running the 5K at school. And I run between five and ten miles three or four time a week besides that. I do cardio for boxing. Am I hurting my heart?”
“Are you short of breath, any palpitations or dizziness?”
“No sir, my heart speeds up as I’m running, but I never get short of breath, and it doesn’t dance around like it did before. I feel good.”
“Son, I’m going to do a physical on you. I need to check to see how you’re maturing. Don’t get embarrassed, and Tom can stay here if you want. After the exam, I want another EKG. Do you have any questions?”
“Tom can leave. I don’t have any questions.”
After Mr. Dorsey left the room, Micah started querying the doctor. “You know, since I was sick, I’ve felt differently. Sometimes I get angry for no re
ason, aggressive, and sometimes very sad.”
As Micah spoke, the doctor conducted the physical examination. “Well son, your body is changing. When you start puberty, weird hormones start showing up that will help you mature. You will start seeing obvious changes in your body. But these chemicals will also change your psychology. So anger and aggression and sadness are often part of the maturing process. You will start to have sexual feelings. This is all normal and you’re not alone. Every boy will go through this, and every man already has. Talk to your dad or Mr. Dorsey. And if you’re not comfortable with them, you can always talk to me, and what we talk about will stay between us.”
“Whew, I was sort of worried,” Micah showed his relief and the doctor smiled.
After about 25 minutes, the exam and the EKG were complete, and Tom came back into the room.
“Everything’s good, and it looks like he has started puberty. He’s going to be a hairy dude.” He looked at Micah and laughed. “I’m going to take some blood to check his hormone levels. Normal puberty starts between nine and 13 years of age, so he’s right where he belongs.” Dr. Reeves looked at Tom. “There is nothing to worry about. He is strong and well. You need to thank God that he’s a challenge to raise. You came within a breath of not having him around at all. With puberty, you may find him a little more of a challenge. His body and personality are trying to cope with the changes his hormones are throwing at him. Make sure you take time to talk and answer his questions about things. As far as his growth, he might slow down, or he could be a big man. If I remember right, both Greg and Eddie are good size boys. He has excellent muscle tone, especially considering he was bedridden for three months. As long as he is active, he’s good. Any other questions?”
“No, you’ve answered everything,” and the old man and boy left.
That evening, after boxing and before bedtime, the old man sat next to Micah in the kitchen. “About last night, what did you do? I don’t really understand what happened. One moment I was all shaky and nervous, and then I was calm, almost like you gave me a drug.”
“I took you home.” Micah’s voice was again soft and whispering. “The world of dreams is reality. What you see here and all around us is illusion, and we become lost in its dullness. You read me like a book; you picked up my fears and then made them your own, which made you ill. I helped you heal yourself.”
Micah thought for a few moments, “You experienced the divine. I can’t say it any better. It’s where I go to recharge, and you can go there anytime. I can teach you. I’ve shown Cory how to cross into True-Life. The world is both a classroom and our creation. It is a Garden of Eden or it is a hell. Either way it’s a reflection of our common soul. It is easy to forget who we are. Bad decisions, lust and hate imprison us, and once you take a wrong turn, it becomes more difficult to return. But eventually we all return; we all go home forever. Even the gravest evil is forgivable. And it is we who must forgive and accept ourselves as we are before we can cross into peace.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that,” Mr. Dorsey commented. “So when you blink out sometimes, you’ve ‘gone home’?”
“Yeah, occasionally but not always.”
Tom studied the boy. Words flowed from Micah’s lips without difficulty or thought, as if his ideas were totally engrained within every cell of his body; and with every breath that he took, he took with this certainty. Mr. Dorsey peered into his mood, sensing the deepest aspect of Micah’s inner being. Then he saw the yellow glow that encircled the youth’s body, and within the yellow light, orangey-red fingers blazed, faded and then reappeared.
Micah saw what the old man was doing and smiled. “I love you Tom Dorsey,” he said as an expression of deeply held adoration. “I love you one thousand bushels.”
Chapter 10: Ohiwaye!
Micah was sweat soaked from his practice run. As he stepped into the bathroom / changing room, he wished the school had showers. He dried off and dressed.
“Good run,” Tandy said. “No way could I run 5K in 20 minutes. I’d be lucky to do it in twice that time.”
Micah smiled at the praise but it wasn’t necessary. He was satisfied, and that’s all that mattered. “Thanks but 5 kilometers isn’t much.”
It amused Tandy at how praise of any kind made Micah uncomfortable. “Are we meeting at the barn after school?”
“Yeah but I’ll be coming from the Junior High on the bus. We’ll ride then make plans for the holiday.” Micah was happy. It was Easter break, and today was the last day of school—five days off. He walked to the front of Tierra Verde to meet Coach Britt who was driving him to Camino del Rio, and he would be working out with the junior high team all afternoon. This was part of Mr. Malvern’s plan to get him to skip grades next year. Micah smiled because the principal’s strategy was working.
“Mr. Malvern really wants you out of Tierra Verde, doesn’t he?” Coach Britt commented. Micah liked Coach Britt; he pushed the boys and was interested in them; teaching and coaching was not a job but a calling.
“Yeah, he won’t let it rest. He tells me I’m not challenged enough, but I really think he wants me out of there because I would be one less challenge for him, but leaving my friends behind is a problem. How does a 5th Grader fit in with a bunch of 9th Graders anyhow?”
“I understand what you’re saying.” Coach Britt shook his head. “But I think you’ll be surprised how well you do fit in. You’re really a big boy for the 5th Grade. You look a lot older. And you’re bright and athletic. You might be happier than you think.” There was quiet for a few moments. “After you meet some of the runners today, you’ll see that you’re not that different.” They pulled into the parking lot. “Come with me, and I’ll give you a locker so you can change.”
They got out of the pickup and headed to an old barracks that served as both an athletics building and wood shop. Coach Britt led the boy into his office and tossed him a gold colored t-shirt and purple shorts. “You can wear these, and then take them home, they’re yours. Your friends will get theirs next week. They are for meets only.” Across the shirt was written Bobcats and the number 3 on both front and back. The shorts had “Bobcats” stitched vertically across one leg in gold.
“Will the other boys be wearing uniforms?”
“Afraid you’ll stand out? Yes they will be wearing their uniforms. Stow your stuff in the locker. Oh, the lock combination is: right 3, left 25, right 3. Let’s get going, the bell will ring anytime. Get dressed and come into my office.”
The bell resonated through the building just as the coach walked away. Micah rushed to change and went into the coach’s office. Micah remained standing as the hallways filled with boys. The PE class was in a room across the corridor from the showers, while the room adjacent to the office was for the track teams. The coach motioned for Micah to follow him. “Men, this is Micah Sherwood. He runs the 5K at Tierra Verde and will be representing the Bobcats at several meets. Since Hornsby is out sick, Sherwood as stand-in will be running the 5K for the 9th Grade today against Stinett. Treat him well.” The coach clapped his hands together loudly, and then the boys did the same.
Jimmy John came up to Micah and patted him on the back. “Knew I’d see you again. Dane said you are running the 5000 meter race. What’s your fastest time?”
“I ran it in 20 minutes this morning.” Micah barely comprehended what was going on. No one had mentioned that he would be racing with the 9th Graders in a real meet. He was uneasy and wanted to get the hell outta there.
“Not bad, but you’ll have to step it up a bit to beat the kids from Stinett, especially Bear. I hear he’s a fucking jaguar.” Jimmy John watched the young boy. “Don’t go fretting, you’ll do great. Everyone here will be rooting for you. The coach told us about his ‘star’ from Tierra Verde. Now you’ll get to prove it.” Jimmy John walked him out to the warm up area. An oval track surrounded the football field with an open stadium seating 500 people on its west side. He heard some of the boys refer to it as ‘Sticker
Stadium,’ and that made him smile.
Micah looked at his teammates, and he was probably only an inch or two shorter than the tallest 9th Grade boy on the field, but he felt like a midget nevertheless. He started stretching and bending, running in place, and he even did some shadow boxing. The cheerleaders were at the goal posts hanging up a ‘Go Bobcats’ sign. He saw Lindy and Lindy saw him. He loped over to her.
“Micah, you’re running. That’s great.” She called over the other girls and introduced him. “This is Micah, the boy I told you about. He’s running today.” She looked at him. “You are running, aren’t you?” She looked quizzically at him.
Micah chuckled and shook his head yes. “The 5K, I’m running in the 9th Grade spot.” He looked toward the parking lot and saw Mr. Malvern and Coach Terry smiling at him. And behind them were his buddies from 4th Grade track. He had an audience that came to cheer him on. Micah trotted over to his friends. And then he noticed Tom Dorsey in the group.
“Pretty sporty,” Cory referred to his uniform. “Gold and purple, the colors sort of hurt the eyes.”
“Sherwood, get your butt over here,” Coach Britt yelled at him before he could say anything, and Micah jogged over. “Like I said, you’re in the last event. I want you to go over there and practice your starts. Get Cory to help you out.”
Micah retrieved Cory, and the two boys went to the north side of the stadium to practice. After 30 minutes, the coach called for Micah to join the other Camino del Rio runners, and he watched the various races but mostly the pep-club girls jump and bounce and cheer.
“Sherwood, watch the runners and not the cheerleaders,” Coach Terry screamed and laughed. Micah turned red.
Time was flying, and then he heard his event called. He headed toward the coach, who began reminding him of various things all of which he was too nervous to hear. Micah was on the inside spot. There were six boys in the race: three from Stinett and three from Camino del Rio. It was busy and noisy; field events were going on in the center of the track. He was trying to control his nerves. He started his breathing exercises, something he had not done during his weeks’ worth of practices.
Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage Page 13