Sellwood Oregon, 

1948

Henry was under the dark sky. He had a shovel and was furiously digging. Slamming the blade into the earth. He had hit the root of Carmen's rose bush. It was hard and stiff and it didn't move as he stabbed into it. He jumped on the blade of the shovel but it wouldn't break. He pulled on the bush. He put his hands around the thickest branch. A thorn tore through his skin. He kicked the climbing tall bush and it shook the trellis. He lifted the shovel and slammed it down hard on the bush. So much of the wood was broken, but it was still alive.. He wanted it dead. He wanted it never to bloom again. He wanted to pull it out of the ground, this living thing. He was mad at the earth for first swallowing his father, then for taking his mother.