you will come across him in my grandmother's meadow. i did, at least. when i was five or so, i would sit and skip rocks across the pond, and i would watch the water ripple as they carved out a path upon the surface. my grandfather taught me how to do it before he passed. i would sit in front of the meadow in his lap so my pants wouldn't get wet, and i would watch as he threw pebbles. they would skip, skip, skip. and eventually reach the far side of the pond, and sink down to the bottom, leaving a little trail of bubbles behind, a last breath, a gasp for air. a summation. i saw a face beneath the water. a beautiful face. with long teeth, and rosy, rounded cheeks. i would ask my grandpa about it, and he would grimace, and say it was just the algae. i know now, that it's only clairence. i wish my grandfather hadn't died, because now i could tell him that it's not algae, but just clairence. if i sit too close to the edge of the water, he'll make his way up to the surface of the meadow, closer to where i'm sitting, up near the mossy bank of the pond. he is thirty eons old. i know he's an angel, because he told me he is, with his carnelian lips and all the lovely rows of his teeth. i asked to see his wings, but he chastized me and said that real angels don't have wings that you can see. he told me he likes peaches, so i bring some for him on sundays, i toss them into the water, and a peach pit will float back up a few moments later. even if i can't see him. i couldn't find peaches once, so i brought him a nectarine. i didn't see a pit float up, and i didn't see clairence again until three sundays later. he doesn't like nectarines. he says he likes my grandma's meadow because it's pretty, and he likes watching the skylarks. he's been everywhere that there is to go, but dottie's meadow is his favorite place to be. i tell him that he fits right in. i try not to stare at him for too long, or it feels like someone is trying to push my eyeball's out from behind my head, like someone is pushing me towards the meadow by my cornea's. he says that he understands, that he doesn't take it personally. he wishes i would come into the meadow sometimes, just to say hello. he can't get too close to the bank, because the water is too shallow there, and i try to tell him that it's unsanitary in the meadow, but he just throws his head back and cackles. it sounds like a beerbottle windchime. i don't get what's so funny, but when clairence laughs, i feel like i have to laugh too, so i do. i stopped visting my grandma so much, and he complains more and more about it each time i do visit. i got fed up once, told him to quiet down and be grateful that i visit at all. he got angry, and his lovely teeth didn't look so lovely anymore. i stopped visiting the meadow after that, but he still shows up in my dreams.
