/ roots, bare feet. cool dirt. tunnel becomes ledge becomes two routes: up to a ledge and down to a waterfall pouring into an ocean. pause. careful steps approach the water-that-is-not-water. ankle deep. downpour. silver-blue water-that-is-not-water sinks into skin. face upturned. cupped hands. restored for the moment, notice a familiar figure on the ledge. roots, vines, rocks demand careful steps for bare feet.
stand together.
"wait."
/ a wild love emerges from the waterfall. wet feet meander, leaving muddy prints and tiny pools of water with each pause to collect part of a plant.
/ child bolts out from behind the waterfall. Bucktoothed, with too-long limbs and a lopsided grin, she skids to a halt in front of the twigs and drops to the ground, cross-legged.
Child-me: “Beat you.”
“Would you like to build something with me?”
/When digging in the dirt brought water-that-is-not-water to the surface, disjointed play suddenly became coordinated and the two began to build a bridge. As they built, 2022 Landon stayed, but my pre-transition self changed. Each consequent iteration belonged to a time shaped by danger.
on the ledge, there were only words, jumbled and muffled by choked-throat tears:
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. Me safe. Her safe. Any of us safe – you, myself, us the ones we love and who love us. I love you. I did the best I could, but it wasn’t enough. You deserved better. I deserved better. We deserved better.”
Without looking away from the two builders below, the Alchemist Fox shook his head slightly:
Alchemist: “You did the best you could with what you had. You couldn’t be expected to keep yourself safe, not like you wish you had. You are building better tools now, and you will do better, soon. Build bridges. Step outside of yourself.
As the bridge became sturdier, the silver stream it spanned deepened and widened.
“Who are you, really.”
Alchemist: “A tinkerer and a teacher.”
“Bullshit.”
Alchemist: “Go back to building.” [you are not done building]
Watching myself below, I began re-considering my understanding of justice – my current framework was beginning to fail as my two selves built this bridge. When it pertains to myself, I have always thought of justice as “moving on” once something was unable to cause more harm. Why was I so apprehensive about my protectors surrounding me, and their understanding of justice?
---
cool dirt. step into the cavern and realize the starlight/ river waterfall dropping into the room has a pool beneath it. Roots and vines twist across the cavern walls, they seemed to be waiting for someone (something?) to interact with them. Eagle watches from far above, on a branch that grows from the inside of the tree trunk. Beyond Eagle there is a galaxy. The starlight/river waterfall originates far above even Eagle, above even from the stars themselves despite being the very same river over our heads.
Standing beside the Alchemist, I see myself – identical in every way – walk out of the waterfall and towards a small pile of twigs and vines on the floor. Before I arrive at the pile, a young child bolts out from behind the waterfall. Bucktoothed, with too-long limbs and a lopsided grin, she skids to a halt in front of the twigs and drops to the ground, cross-legged.
Child-me: “Beat you.”
“Would you like to build something with me?”
I stood by the Alchemist and watched as myself from 2022 and myself as an 8-year-old girl played with dirt and sticks. When digging in the dirt brought water-that-is-not-water to the surface, disjointed play suddenly became coordinated and the two began to build a bridge. As they built, 2022 Landon stayed, but my pre-transition self changed. Each consequent iteration belonged to a time shaped by danger.
On the ledge and in Williamstown, I covered my mouth and sobbed. In Williamstown, tears were accompanied by coughs, but on the ledge, there were only words, jumbled and muffled:
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. Me safe. Her safe. Any of us safe – you, myself, us the ones we love and who love us. I love you. I did the best I could, but it wasn’t enough. You deserved better. I deserved better. We deserved better.”
Without looking away from the two builders below, the Alchemist Fox shook his head slightly:
Alchemist: “You did the best you could with what you had. You couldn’t be expected to keep yourself safe, not like you wish you had. You are building better tools now, and you will do better, soon. Build bridges. Step outside of yourself.
As the bridge became sturdier, the silver stream it spanned deepened and widened.
“Who are you, really.”
Alchemist: “A tinkerer and a teacher.”
“Bullshit.”
Alchemist: “Go back to building.” [you are not done building]
Watching myself below, I began re-considering my understanding of justice – my current framework was beginning to fail as my two selves built this bridge. When it pertains to myself, I have always thought of justice as “moving on” once something was unable to cause more harm. Why was I so apprehensive about my protectors surrounding me, and their understanding of justice?
