the High Road

The author speaks of meditative states of being, of letting Nature take over your train of thought and of how if you’re bored enough, eventually you will find your way. You think of your parents, honeymooning on Scottish mores and naming their firstborn after the endless fields of heather, and how the firstborn grew up to throw a second wedding when the first wasn’t eventful enough. You think maybe we’re wrong to pave every last inch and maybe there is something beyond New York.

I sat in their kitchen late into the night, long after the baby in my arms had been moved to his bed, and for a second I remembered what it was like: family, friendship the kind that lasts forever, knowing people to the ends of the earth. We spoke of that first party in the pasta factory, sitting in a Brooklyn window and seeing the whole world spread out before us, how suddenly the years add up and one day our children will speak of us as stories, as dreams.

I want you to know we loved you as best we could. I want you to remember we were only human. The world spun without us, without you, there is no magic.

There is
nothing
but.