Beech Tree News Network

“Hurry Poppa,” the boy urged as he saw to the water buffalo, “we need to get started; all the good stalls will be taken, you remember the marketplace opens at eight o clock.” The father was doing some last minute checking of the vegetables on the large two-wheeled cart. Both worked by lantern light; daylight was several hours away.
“Hurry-faster father”, the boy said again. “We’ll miss the early crowd of customers; sometimes the boy thought, I don’t’ understand my elders- they take too long seeing to everything over and over.  It wears me out… something they are so painfully slow. “
Finally they set- out on the long journey to the city where they would sell their produce. The boy sat astride the ox;  the father walked taking case that none of the vegetables fell off the cart. Ultimately they caught up to the tail end of another column of carts and wagons headed for the same place. It was already far into the morning; the boy was put out because of their being so late, but said nothing. Suddenly the cart in front of them broke an axle just behind the hub of the wheel. The father told the son to pull over and stop.
“But father, why not try to go around him?” the boy plead, “we are already running behind.”  “They need help, “ said the father, “they would do the same thing for us.”
“But we may never get there on time, just when the market opens at eight. Can’t we go on?” the boy implored.
The father did not answer. He and the man with the broken axle fashioned a skid from a good- sized sapling to replace the wheel. It would be slow- going, but it worked. The father even took some of the vegetables from the man’s cart and placed them on his own cart to lighten the load.
Eventually they all came to a small river where they all had to be ferried- more time lost.  It began to get daylight. They had just gotten lined out good again when the father directed the boy to pull over in front of a small house.
“Why are we stopping here Poppa?” the boy asked, barely able to hide his disgust.
“I have a cousin who lives here. He is very ill. I want to see about his condition. We will still make it on time- or time enough.”
“Please only make a short visit Poppa”, the boy was almost in tears, “else we may as well turn around and go back home.”
Then as they continued the boy sat in morose silence- head down, dozing… all hope of a successful day gone. He was aroused from his doze when he heard his poppa say, “We will walk from here.” They left the cart and joined the other farmers, looking over the edge of a large precipice toward the great city- only there was not great city to see.  Before 8:05 there had been, but not now. On the barren plain below there had been  HIROSHIMA.
Kindest Regards….