Tap, tap, tap…


Tap, tap, tap… In a country far from anything, seldom known by others, in a land forgotten by its rulers, on a farm nested between mountai...

Tap, tap, tap…

In a country far from anything, seldom known by others, in a land forgotten by its rulers, on a farm nested between mountains, a man tapped on a rock.

Tap, tap, tap…

Buried in a mound of rubble that was once a home, in a pocket of air just big enough for his body, he laid barely able to move, just enough to strike a stone against a stone.

Tap, tap, tap…

Feeling alone and helpless, a small girl just big enough to carry a half-full pail of water, frantically threw a small rock from the pile of rubble that had been her home. She threw one, then another, and then another. She grew tired but did not stop. She could hear the sounds of taps and wondered what it meant.

Away from the small girl, a boy ran, toward the creek where their mother had gone. He grabbed his mother's hand and pulled, telling her to come quickly. Dropping the cloths she had washed, she ran back to where her home had been, feeling fear with each step. They came to the rubble. The small girl did not stop, nor look up to greet them; determined, she threw one small stone then another; she had heard her father give a shout, and she had shouted back.

Desperate, frantic, the woman helped her daughter and the boy help them both. They worked until it was dark and kept working. Finally, they created a small hole and there he was, alive but not tapping stone against stone. He had waited patiently. He had heard his daughter call back; he had known all that could be done would be done. Out of the hole he came--tired, dazed, bruised--but happy, very happy.

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Consider This:

An age is called Dark not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it. -James Albert Michener, novelist (1907-1997)



The Evolving Monkey : Tap, tap, tap…
Tap, tap, tap…
The Evolving Monkey
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