Skunk!

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Some time ago, our ten-year-old son had a friend over, and the boys went into the woods to play. We appreciated having the jungle like woods begin at the end of our sidewalk. From there, we took long walks in the woods with children and dogs. We were never afraid for the children when they got old enough to go out there with buddies. After all, ten-year-old boys all over America roamed the woods and deserts building forts and climbing trees. In those days and for centuries, the country was a safe haven for most children most of the time. 

That day the boys came running into the house. My son yelled, “Mom, Mom.” I looked at the other boy. His eyeballs seemed to quiver. The big dog had come in too, somewhat subdued.  They didn’t have to tell me what they were carrying on about; my nose told me. SKUNK! They knew to stay clear of that black and white kitty, but there he was stuck in a steel trap. I had to see if there was anything we could do to free poor Pepe Le Pew. We didn’t want to touch the trap, so we found a big heavy stick and pried the trap open with it. The skunk never did rise to his front legs and spray us; he just sauntered away.  

To keep any other wildlife from getting caught, we suspended the trap by its chain on a big wooden stick. The boys carried it from each end, looking proud as if they had done something brave. We put the trap in the garage. It stayed there for a few weeks.

Then one day, our boy came home from playing in the neighborhood. He told us one of the teens up the street had complained that we had stolen his trap. 

We didn’t know who the trap belonged to and didn’t care until our son came home from playing in the neighborhood and told me the owner had accused us of stealing the contraption. Not being a thief or wanting to be called one, I put the trap back on the stick and our son, and I walked it over to the teen’s house. The garage door was up, and the fellow happened to be standing at a bench, working on something.  He didn’t get a chance to say anything.

Remembering the poor little skunk, a wave of fury overtook me, and I let the steel trap clatter onto the cement floor.  We turned and walked the short distance home. Not a word had been spoken.   

The young man grew up to become a personality in the community, and we remained good friends with the rest of the family. I guess it’s about time now for me to forgive the kid he once was. I never thought of that until right now. As far as I know, he never set another trap in those woods.

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”