The second age of light

I was never much good at hiding the truth, the open book of my face gave away more than it concealed. I never was a good shield, perhaps, because I was also very good at ferreting out the secret assignation and foibles of adults. Lord knows there were enough skeletons in the closet.

After Chernobyl blossomed, I could not hide my dismay when the rains came. The scientists said the cloud was too high in the stratosphere and it posed no danger, unless it rains. And despite all odds, it rained. And so we stood under the portico, listening to the rain. 

And that realization as I avoided the rain, that even the roof of my car offered no protection from the isotopes falling from the sky. This was nothing like what happened at Three Mile Island. That spring of 1986 was a time of no birdsong. 

What could I possibly tell the children when they asked the hard questions that even the scientists sidestepped during this newest age of light?

With an angry child, seeking revenge, said we oughta nuke those Commies, I said, do you think Soviet kids want to nuke us? And at that moment, the doors of perception opened a crack to let the light in.

11/15/23 Write On! Susie Terence