The Glorious Prodigal
“Sitting in the bow of the cypress johnboat, Stuart was conscious of the August sun beating down on his neck, of the mushy, earthy smell of the black dirt soaked with summer rains—but most of all of his four-year-old son who sat opposite him. It’s hard to believe, he thought, that he’ll be five in a few months. Time’s gone by so fast, and he seems to grow up every day more and more. He studied the summer tan that covered Raimey with a golden glow, and as the boy pulled his straw hat off, Stuart ...noted that the hair, long over his ears and neck now, was the same intense black as his own.
A strange feeling came to Stuart Winslow then. As he watched his son, he suddenly was jolted back in some sort of time machine, for the few pictures that existed of him revealed that Raimey was an exact copy of himself at that age. The same squarish face, close-set ears, a broad mouth, and above all, the incredibly dark blue eyes—so dark that they seemed at times to be almost black, especially when he grew angry.MoreLess
A strange feeling came to Stuart Winslow then. As he watched his son, he suddenly was jolted back in some sort of time machine, for the few pictures that existed of him revealed that Raimey was an exact copy of himself at that age. The same squarish face, close-set ears, a broad mouth, and above all, the incredibly dark blue eyes—so dark that they seemed at times to be almost black, especially when he grew angry.MoreLess
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