-
I was sitting at a campfire, in the mountains. It was a large fire and across it sat every male from my ancestry for centuries. They were dead, except for my pops, and an older version of myself.
That older version of myself was much more cowboy than I’d ever imagined, and his voice even more so. Though at this point, he didn’t talk- just stared at me. I stared back, examining his face and in what ways it was different, in what ways it was what I always hoped I’d eventually weather to be.
I turned to face the old Crosby men. Only three could I place. My father, my grandfather, and his father, from a photo of him, probably around 1890 or so.
The rest were oddly dressed strangers, some important looking, others I’d assume were criminals. I asked the dead men “What should I do?”
Before they could answer Old Me interrupted, “I never saw much rhyme or reason in going on with the wishes of ghosts.”
I say “But shouldn’t I learn from their experience, their wisdom?”
“They’re DEAD.”
The ancestors nodded slightly and there was a mumble of agreement.
“But if I have the chance to-“
Old Me interrupts, “I was dead too, once, ya know? We was dead a long long time fer we was ever born. An’ ain’t no body listened to a god damned word I had to say. ” He took a drink from a flask and looked at the sky, “‘n that turned out alright.”
Then it was silent. The Ancestors, the ghosts, the Crosbys… they just looked around, some at the sky, some into the fire, others beyond. Slowly they started to stand up and leave. Some nodded at me, others did not.
Finally my Pops stood up, standing right next to Old Me- they were about the same age. He reached over the fire and handed me a bottle of whisky, then left.
I looked at Old Me. Waiting for him to leave. He said “Sorry, yer stuck with me. Now go on ‘n get some mer wood.”
Then I got up, and walked into the dark with my whiskey bottle, slightly bothered that it was only half full.
5 months ago / 19 notes
-
thesandandthesieve reblogged this from dead-sea-gulls
-
dead-sea-gulls posted this
-
