The peep of day creeps through the tent flaps. As always, grandpa is already outside. The fire by his feet beckons me through the brisk morning air. We share a cup of sweet tea, wrapped in our blankets. As the light begins to erase the shadows of the valley, that we for one brief night called home, we pack up our tent and prepare to set out on another day’s journey.
The silence between us is only broken once we have left the valley behind. Grandpa tells another story about his youth. This time he tells me about the food his mother made for Sunday dinner. His voice carries me away from the sand and blistering sunshine. His words carry me to a room full of family, friends, and food. A room filled with the smell of sweet potatoes and backed chicken with the promise of pudding for all who finish their vegetables.
Grandpa’s stories continue for the rest of the day’s walk. Painting the desert canvas into a mural of family time and childhood play. Intended to distract me from the distance travelled, it serves only to remind me of the things I have yet to experience.
As we finish setting up our tent for the night res, I finally speak, “Grandpa, do you think there are any other people left?”
He does not answer me, choosing instead to stare blankly into the waves of dust warning all who can see of the oncoming sandstorm. Today we could not cover as much distance as we needed to. We travel less with each passing day. Each night brings longer lessons on the stars. Grandpa seems determined to teach me all he knows in as little time as possible.
We walk every day. Determined to find the world grandpa dreamt about the night before we started our odyssey. The world full of people and food. The world not yet touched by plague or famine.
After many days of our voyage I wake to find grandpa still next to me. I am unable to wake him. His body is cold and his eyes, always so full of light, have been extinguished.
I walk alone now. Each night dreaming of the world grandpa promised me, each day reliving the memories he gifted me. Only the mural on the desert floor to remind me of the life I have yet to live.