Alaska, 1951

Four miles down the other side of the hill, Daniel heard a soft rushing further into the woods. After another mile, the sound had grown into a hum and then a rumble, at which point he found himself at the edge of a dark-colored, quick-moving stream



He waits for an answer that will never surface, while I wonder why, after all these decades, this is what he remembers of me.  I want to be elsewhere, and I am elsewhere, but not sure where, and I know where I don’t want to be.