I Thought My Father Was God
Editor: Paul Auster ( US)
Translator: Huilan (
Kathy managed to forgive me. With fake optimism, she even tried to reassure me that Perky would find a new home. But I was far too canny to believe that such a thing was possible. I was inconsolable. Time passed. Eventually, my great remorse took a modest place among the larger things of life, and we all grew up.
Decades later, I watched my own children growing. We shared their activities，spending soccer Saturdays in folding chairs with the parents of the kids’ friends, the Kissells. The two families went camping around
'The best thing about Sweetie Pie,' he said, 'was the way we got him. One day, when I was about eight, out of the clear blue sky, a little blue parakeet just floated down and landed on my finger,'
When I was finally able to speak, we examined the amazing evidence. The dates and the locations and the pictures of the bird all matched up. It seems that our two families had been connected long before we ever met. Forty years later, I ran to my sister and said, 'You were right! Perky lived!!”
The Yellow Butterfly
One Saturday my mother and uncle picked me up from practice in a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. As I slid into the back seat, my uncle attempted to start the car. It gave several dry coughs, and then the engine stopped turning over. My uncle sat in silent frustration, and my mother turned around and asked me what we should do. I was eight years old, and without hesitation I told her that we had to wait for a yellow butterfly to touch the car before it would again. I don’t know whether my mother believed me or not. She only smiled, and then she turned back to my uncle to discuss what to next. He got out of the car and told her that he was going to the nearest gas station for help. I fell in and out of sleep, but I was awake when my uncle returned from the gas station. I remember him carrying a container of gas, filling up the car, the car not starting, and him tinkering some more, and still the car wouldn’t start. My mother then got out of the car and hailed a cab. A yellow cab stopped. Instead of taking us home, the driver looked at our predicament and suggested that my uncle squirt some gas on the engine. This seemed to do the trick, and after thanking this good Samaritan, my uncle turned the ignition and the car started right away.
I began falling back to sleep. Half a block later, my mother woke me up. She was all excited, and her voice was full of wonder. When I opened my eyes, I turned to where she was pointing. Fluttering around the rearview mirror was a tiny yellow butterfly.