Oh, God, I’m starting to become like them, like the recreational squirrel and duck photographers of the Public Garden. First two swan photos appear on my phone. Then I tell my mother she has to see this chipmunk photo on Instagram. Now I’m telling squirrel stories. But, really, this guy, he was just sitting there. I don’t know what caused me to look up and across the pond in that moment, to focus on this one guy. But he was sitting there in a white shirt, no food, just talking to the woman next to him. Maybe his shirt said something offensive. Like, “4th Annual Woodchoppers Festival – Down With Trees,” or “Smammal Huntin’ Season,” or maybe “I ❤ Dogs.” But all of a sudden this gray furry thing shot out of nowhere, landed right on his chest. It was so fast it was like watching one of those clips from America’s Funniest Home Videos, the ones they play six times just to be sure you caught the funny part. This was like that – I felt like I kept watching it on repeat with a laugh track. The furry dart latching onto its target, the jolt, the squirrel pouncing back to the ground. Wrong guy? Thought he was an acorn? Looked like a friend?
Two Years Before the Mass. 