Dear Kyler,

16Mar08

By the time you read this, you will probably have already been playing barefoot outside in the grass outside, and you will already be so tired, so excited, so completely fulfilled that you won’t even mind the fact that you’re acting half your age. You’ll laugh and laugh and be completely content, while your brother is half a world away teaching haitians about Jesus. You won’t think about the fact that on the other side of the world, there is a mass genocide going on. All you can care about at that moment in time, during that frame of the movie, at that exact second when quarks form atoms form mass form you, is that the house at the top of the street, the one that burned down, looks lonely.

Tell the house about your day, and let it do the same. But the trees, the trees are falling.
Drop your pillows in the forest! The trees, the trees are following. Raise your eyes and salute! The trees stand on each other’s shoulders, waiting to fall. Yet, I stand on the shoulders of giants and I can see everything that’s ever existed and ever thought about existing. Their lives are like badly colored children’s books, out of order and drooled on and misshappen from getting stuck under the carseat.

But this… this life, this house, this family. This will pass. You… your mind, your soul, your body.
This will pass. That house will live forever, its roots digging deeper than yours ever could. And what’s become of yours? Your roots, where are they? Passed on down to your children their children and so on? Where are they now?Where are you now?

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