Oh Deer

We mounted him in the corner, above the desk, and next to the window. His eyes reflected the glare of the bare light bulb in
the center of the bedroom, and his antlers almost scraped the ceiling. We hung Christmas ornaments on them to make him
look friendlier, the silver snowflake that frames the photo of my cousin and me, the gold rock hold that Jake won in a climbing
competition, and the big red ball that reads Mr. & Mrs. Est. 2019.


Sometimes I wonder if he likes being in the corner. Does he feel cozy or trapped? Does he like his view into the backyard, or
does he feel exposed? There is a decorative sign near him that reads the best is yet to come. Does he think the message
applies to him? Do the words bring him hope or isolation?


We didn’t give him a name because Jake says he wants to let our children name him. He says they can each give him a
name, and we’ll hyphenate them. We’re not sure how many names he’ll have. Of course by time the kids are with us, we
won’t be living in one room, so we’ll put him in the living or dining room instead of our bedroom.

Sometimes when Jake is out I talk to him. His presence silently persists. He still looks through me. Somehow, though, his
eyes smile now. I think he has gotten used to me, just as I have gotten used to having him in the corner, above the desk,
and next to the window.

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