I stood and watched him pick the possum up, and it was the same possum except the red hole in his side had become a scar. And then my Dad began swinging the possum around and around his head like it was a slingshot and he was David.
And he swung the possum around and around his head and the possums eyes got bigger and bigger. It looked like they were about ready to pop out of his head.
And I remember the possum looking at me with a look on its face that said, “Help me. Help me.” We should all help one another.
But I couldn’t help it because he was swinging the possum and building up speed, around and round, building up speed and just when it was ready to explode—he let go of the possum tail and tossed him high into the air. And it went UP UP UP. We stood watching him rise in front of the dark mountain and it was like my Dad wasn’t my Dad anymore and the possum wasn’t a possum anymore either, but had suddenly become the most beautiful star shooting across the dark dark dark sky.