We’ve gotten so used to things, we’re unreachable. We’re so used to dinosaur bones and space flight and computers that fit in our pocket, we’re unenlightenable. So when my daughter and I watch a documentary on Tutankhamun I watch happily as she tries to wrap her head around the bewildering crush of 4,000 years. (But while we’re on the subject, who gave these people the right to dig up anything that never asked to be dug up? I am certain that if bones could talk you wouldn’t want to hear what they have to say.) The narrator tells us when they entombed the sickly boy king then gave him a boat to sail into the afterlife. I wait patiently for my daughter to ask me if she can have a boat when she dies. If she does I would like to tell her yes, though I will be watching for it from another shore.
Tyrel Kessinger is a stay-at-home dad to a couple of young chaos demons and occasionally finds time to write something (maybe) worth reading. Read his many, many non-viral tweets at @KessingerTyrel.
Image: “Leonardo” by Shane Allison
Pine Hills Review 