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thisnewdayHe was a long time going to sleep. And after a while he turned and looked at the man. His face in the small light streaked with black from the rain like some old world thespian. Can I ask you something? he said.
He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.
from The Road
by Cormac McCarthy
Vintage Books, 2006
This is how it is with my grandson and me. But, for today, I will resume getting fit and do whatever I can to extend my life, as far as may be possible, into the time that he may need me.
I will work stiff joints and stretch the unaccustomed limbs and push against the weight of this aging vessel, this scarred container of my earthly being. So that when I'm needed I may shelter, protect, nurture and defend. Even if all else and all others have long since failed.
And I will do this until one of us ends, when nothing of what remains can possibly matter...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.9.2013
Yes. Of course.
Are we going to die?
Sometime. Not now.
And we're still going south.
Yes.
So we'll be warm.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay what?
Nothing. Just Okay.
Go to sleep.
Okay.
I'm going to blow out the lamp. Is that okay?
Yes. That's okay.
And then later in the darkness: Can I ask you something?
Yes. Of course you can.
What would you do if I died?
If you died I would want to die too.
So you could be with me?
Yes. So I could be with you.
Okay.
Sometime. Not now.
And we're still going south.
Yes.
So we'll be warm.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay what?
Nothing. Just Okay.
Go to sleep.
Okay.
I'm going to blow out the lamp. Is that okay?
Yes. That's okay.
And then later in the darkness: Can I ask you something?
Yes. Of course you can.
What would you do if I died?
If you died I would want to die too.
So you could be with me?
Yes. So I could be with you.
Okay.
He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.
from The Road
by Cormac McCarthy
Vintage Books, 2006
This is how it is with my grandson and me. But, for today, I will resume getting fit and do whatever I can to extend my life, as far as may be possible, into the time that he may need me.
I will work stiff joints and stretch the unaccustomed limbs and push against the weight of this aging vessel, this scarred container of my earthly being. So that when I'm needed I may shelter, protect, nurture and defend. Even if all else and all others have long since failed.
And I will do this until one of us ends, when nothing of what remains can possibly matter...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.9.2013
