Mama made this home. Papa was always drifting. But it’s probably why he felt comfortable here. Why we all do. The sea offered an escape. We started here in the summers. But soon we were here all the time. Until school started.
Even then I wanted to return. Not that school was bad. But I could go where I wanted here. Papa would let me swim to the islands. Or wander the woods. It’s why I learned to shoot. Mama said I wouldn’t hit anyone unless they were trudging through the muck like I was.
That seems unlikely. Most people like to stick to the trails. Papa taught me not to. He showed me the stories hidden elsewhere. While Mama taught me the names of everything, and what was safe to eat. She knew from the beginning I would wander.
She said it was a sign of how much of Papa was in me. But Momo said it was because there was so much of Mama in me. I was just happy to explore, to find the stories Papa talked about, or eat the bilberries that were everywhere.
This one time I found a family of deer. Papa says they’re not from here, just like him. But that I’m not to get near them cause they carry ticks. I tracked them from our cabin to the end of the peninsula. And then swam after them as they went to one of the islands.
I don’t know what they were in search of. There was plenty of food where we were. But when I got to the island they were gone.
Today’s art is courtesy of Yun Ling from Montreal, Canada.