I distinctly recall the eye staring back at me as the accordion partition closed each afternoon. It was a soft blue with a large black pupil and I would get out of the bed and pad around the room ducking up and down as the eye followed me. "Go to sleep", said Mrs. Michelle as she tapped her broom on the bottom step. I sat on the bed and watched the particles rise, swim and settle. Eventually, I would sleep and when I woke Uva would be sitting on the other bed, shoes off, all arms, legs and perspiration. He would tousle my hair and tell me not to touch the eye, "it's real, you know, from a deer my dad shot".
I would think about the one-eyed deer and wonder if he wore a patch over his eye like me.
Often abode girls go the extra mile, (literally). The day the construction worker burst in the door and shouted, "he's on the run!" Jessica and he took up the chase running after a high school kid and his friends who had helped themselves to a print of Van Gough's sunflowers from our outdoor display. They ran fast and they ran far and finally they caught up and asked him why? Because he wanted it - Jess smacked him upside the head and said he could have pulled weeds, washed windows scrubbed toilets to earn it.
Oh, Vincent, did you ever dream you would inspire such action?