The Unspoken Oath        
 
 

Flynn Meyers
 
 

© Copyright 2018 by Flynn Meyers
 
 
 

 

Photo of man looking into jungle.

I was a super hero, once, way back when. I remember seeing all three of my children take their first breath of life. I marveled at their tiny fingers and toes. These gifts from god himself, were precious little genetic duplicates of me. I recall walking towards the jungle, with a tiny little hand grasping two or three of my fingers, for support and courage. They looked up at my powerful and enormous stature with big, wide eyes, filled with sparkling innocence, love and admiration. We knew they need not fear a thing, with me by their side. Even the boogie man, trembled with fear at the mere sight of me.

I remember the day, I led each of them to the edge of the jungle that one last time. It seemed like I had only looked away for a minute, as the tiny hand pulled from my grasp. They paused momentarily at the jungles edge. My eyes beheld the beautiful strong sculpted young adults, they had too quickly become. I was overcome with pride, but admittedly with sadness and concern as well. I calmed my thoughts knowing that their mother and I had woven integrity, strength and courage into the very fabric of their armor. I convinced myself they would be fine.

I sat at the edge of the jungle. My super eyes and ears intently listening and watching for the slightest sign of a struggle or cry for help. I eventually realized this vigil was in vain. For they were simply out there becoming super heroes themselves. I however, whispered my oath once again to the winds of time. I would readily and without hesitation, die for them or even take their place in hell, should it be required. Their place is in heaven and it was my duty as a super hero dad, to ensure their safe return.

In the fall of my life I reside at the edge of the jungle. Remembering well, all of its pleasures and perils. I am no longer a player. For time, wisdom and experience, has lessened my will to participate in the hunt. My days as a mighty warrior, hunter and super hero have sadly past. I often sit quietly at its edge, hopeful for a glimpse or sign of them. On occasion they emerge, but only briefly. They are strong, powerful and beautiful. They sport a victory howl and broad smiles of success. Raising their victory’s like prey above their heads. They wave and are quickly lost from my now failing super vision. Consumed once again by the jungle. At the sunsets I pray they know in their hearts that until my final breath here. In the heat of battle or on the darkest coldest nights. Should they stumble or feel fear. All they need do, is reach an arms length behind them and that forgotten super human hand, will still be there... Yeah I was a super hero once, way back when.


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