| Greg: | Is it important to you that your son make it in the NBA?
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| Parents: | No, if our son wants to be a social worker, or study romance languages, or be an engineer, that would be okay.
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| Greg: | But what if he wanted to become darkness, like in the garage? What if he only wants to pray?
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| Parents: | If our son gave up basketball tomorrow and decided to be a doctor, or a lawyer, that would be all right with us. Hell, a used car salesman, I guess, if that’s his passion.
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| Greg: | But what if he became determined to commit false imbroglio? What if all he wants to be is exhausted?
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| Parents: | If our son doesn’t make it in the NBA, but instead becomes an ambassador, what is that to us?
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| Greg: | Yes, but what if he wakes up daily developing pictures in the soft part of his brain? What if he speeds backwards into a remorse that hurts when you tell it to? What if he decides he just wants to crowd?
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| Parents: | For a living? Well, if that would make him happy.
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| Greg: | But what if he gives up on happiness, never having left the theatre?
What if he lets go of speech except in the most rudimentary runways
of airplanes hit with geese? What if you find him, one morning,
touching a silo?
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| Parents: | Whatever our son wishes to do, as long as it involves the known world. Wherever he wishes to go, as long as it’s forward. And as long as, when he gets there, he’s arrived.
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| Greg: | You must be proud to have a son. You must be vigilant. You must not go there anymore, and return with bad light.
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| Parents: | It’s the burning leaves that makes us sad. But you’re right. I just hope our son understands.
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