I am alive, like there is a boy on my shoulders, and I am carrying him through the wilderness. The sky is bright, and rainclouds are coming. Everything is so close to me, full and shining.
What can you see, out here in the sky? What speaks to you? Who are we, blending into the wind?
The boy is on my shoulders and I am walking, carrying him into this strange future. What does he see, mounted atop me? What will he remember?
I am silent mostly, listening and breathing and climbing these hills, forward, always forward.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“A hawk. The ravens are chasing it.”
Through darkness I can remember of all this, this feeling of walking. Who am I but a larger mammal, a little older, just as wondering as this boy, eyes wide, looking, looking, looking.
We are wild, here. Wild and wide. I cannot see the future. I am only a man, with my two arms and legs.
Have I done the right thing?