The Wall ribbons away in grey from under his feet, snaking and shrinking over the next mountain. It
had been darkest night seconds ago but at super-speed the sun has breathed light into the world. It is when
sunshine plumes down her hair does he notice her.
She glides. He tries to run after her but it’s like running through syrup. Every step he takes is five of
hers. He does not know why he is running; even when he had been hale, he had never felt the need to. He tries to
call but only a puff of air comes out.
She stops suddenly. She turns. The sun flashes.
His mother smiles at him.
He wades after her as fast as he can as the air solidifies around him. For some reason the world seems
to be growing. The ramparts loom over his head; he can see nothing except the road. His arms are weakening;
his strides shortening. He catches sight of his hands.
They are the pudgy paws of a toddler.
And as the sun births rays that sing across the sky, the truth dawns on the ninety-three-year-old in the
five-year-old body.
This is it. This was it.
The memory.
*
You watch as the old, old man staggers to his feet. You watch as he moves towards you. You watch
this child this father, this traitor, this Guard, this son of yours persevere now as he has done his entire life.
You know all of this, for it was you who brought him here.
You know the Wall was his home. Innumerable times he has fled; innumerable times he has returned. It
has been the circle and the center of his life.
You watch now as he stands on the tower from which you had left eons past.
You see his tears swirling down to a smile as bright as the rising sun.
You see him as he takes a step forward, as you had. Another. Another. He keeps on walking. And even
though you know the exact point in this longest journey of his life where the unyielding stone will surrender to
emptiness and he will leave as you did, you close your eyes.
Because for you, he will be forever on the edge. On that edge between stone and air, between life and
death, between him and you.
Forever aloft.
* * *