It Is, It Was

Wrote this about 7-years ago. Just wanted to put something up to take that awful random post of May 3rd down in between what will be two brutal and savagely beautiful posts that are coming this week. One, in particular that hurt me more then anything can. And if you know dates you'll know why. But in the short meantime...




It Is, It was

They built a coffin for Bobby Vaughn.

Jeffery found the wood. Martha carefully carved the linings. They covered themselves in sawdust, spilled lacquer, created uneven corners. Mr. Fernandez supplied the nails and some of the rarer equipment needed in the creation of a wooden tomb. They worked after school and during lunch. They had a car-wash to raise money for the headstone, and then a bake sale after that. Carl and Jeff found instructions online, which were followed vigilantly, and Jennifer weaved silk pillows monogrammed with a bold font. Jennifer’s mother would bring in muffins if they stayed late into the evening when complications arose. They carved, nailed, poured, fitted, wove, sculpted, cried, jammed fingers, coughed, polished and measured. Mr. Fernandez would sometimes nod and often sleep. Day after day for an entire semester; they built a coffin for that old man.

And now that old man, Bobby Vaughn, was slowly circling this hand made structure. A small metal oxygen tank scraping the floor behind him, thin plastic tubes (covered in yellow resin like mucus) protruding from deep within his nostrils, his breath frail and hollow. He ran his thin wrinkled hands along the well worn sides and registered not one splinter. He put force on the rails, peered deep in the box and breathed in as heavily as he could. Fresh pine, deep from the North Florida forest, found its mark.

Bobby walked around this casket for twenty minutes as they looked on in silence, their shoes never shuffling, an eye never wavering towards the yellowing clock high in that old shop warehouse. They watched him for signs of satisfaction, for pain, for validation, and he gave them nothing during his initial rotation. A small grin, a deep look in his green eyes, then a quiet whistle, and he’d keep moving.

Then he stopped and said, “It’s beautiful.”

The class exhaled, and most smiled widely. Mr. Fernandez patted Jeffery on the back.

“But,” he then said, “It does seem a bit small. I’m not sure I’ll fit”.

All eyes focused on Earl. His arms were crossed. He held tightly a clip-board tucked in between his wiry arms and a plaid vest. Earl looked at Bobby Vaughn with fiery intensity, with complete attention; he seemed to shiver at the suggestion.

“You’ll fit,” Earl said “I measured you top to bottom, side to side, and I did it twice a week for seven weeks to make sure you didn’t shrink. You never shrunk Mr. Vaughn. I measured you. You’ll fit.”

Bobby nodded with a slight grin, not making eye contact with Earl, he didn’t need to. The boy had measured him. He’d fit.

“Suppose these eyes no not what they see. Reckon you’re right Earl,” Bobby paused and then faced the entire class. “And it is beautiful”.