Threshold Inheritance

Spirit of the Dawnlands

There are birds here, speaking to each other. Clear and full they send their songs out above the dawn. I sit on the porch, watching the sky sing yellow into the dawn and whisper call the sun above the mountain tops. Tea steams in the faded "Utah" mug I took from my mother's house years ago. I wonder why my gut feels like something is un-right - my heart is pebbles trembling and jumping against a cliff face in an earthquake.

And then he comes, men and women appearing out of thin air. I feel my children inside, blissfully unaware, and I am suddenly full of fear for what happens next. He sneers at me, full of hatred. I know why he hates me but I wish he could see that I forgive him. Even while I hold him accountable. The people with him, they hate me too. They hate me because his story was powerful to them, and they don't care about mine. They don't know me. They don't care about me. They care about their friend. Their brother, their son.