Most of the nature I experience in my daily life now is fictional. It’s in the books, in the films, in my own memories and imagination. But when I pay attention to the hills of Arthur’s seat as I cycle around it on a crisp end of summer afternoon, I am in awe. The world is so so much more beautiful than any representation or memory of it.
I cannot wait for my son to see those things for the first time – the clouds, the trees, the bees. These days I keep well by reading and watching stories and by staring into his innocent eyes. I feel hopeful and I feel strong because I must. I must, for him. I must, like the characters from the stories thrust without a choice into adventures, quests and challenges by the mighty hand of their creators. In that moment, I too am just a character, a piece, moved by the hand of God. Then I must do my best to survive and make sure my son will be safe to grow and have control of his destiny even if I didn’t.
Today I Will Remember
The image of my son’s pure toothless smile. Every morning he is happy to be alive and to spend another day safe with me. I grab my notebook and scribble a note for him, maybe the beginning of a long letter.
My dear boy,
I swear we have tried. Whatever you came to find, perhaps it could have been worse. We tried to hold the ship a little bit longer but now it’s up to you to sail it or steer it.
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