The solitary seagull’s single squawk heard through the open bathroom window. I am too far inland for any sea bird to speak through tilted glass. A distorted remembrance of a time yet to come. I see myself there up ahead, as I imagine I was. A strong and confident man. Ten, maybe fifteen years from now. A distorted time vertigo. The boys grown to men in their father’s infancy. They walk through the glow with emotionally solid strides and the tears of joy well in my eyes. He is my son. And he as well. I know them. The familiar stride, the bend and angle of the knee each step, the neck and the arch of the back. Familiarity as shapes transcending all cosmic limits! I knew those forms before I was born, and they stretch to the end of time. Embedded extensions of solid love and responsibility and friendship and meaning and brotherhood and living. Bodies moving smoothly through blinding nebulae of light. Contentment in my heart. After a lifetime and death and the birth of my ancestors and the descendants of those familiar shapes. Not a time, not a place. A momentary truth anchored to a mistake. A single solitary squawk. Out the tilted window. An inland town. Calling me forward and back home.

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