23
Smoke Signals
They are on the hillside. Clouds gather in vicious shapes in the distance, but this is not something that will stop them in what they are doing. Yuta stands and shuffles his feet in the dirt, thrusting them forward and back, making the footprints he will leave when he is older. He watches, with longing, two boys his own age kicking a ball between them in the valley below. The distance makes them seem like something apart from him, something he could never reach. His great-grandfather is building a tower of twigs and bracken. It is a beautiful thing, each twig carefully placed to take the weight of those that will follow.
‘You must listen to your great-grandfather,’ his mother has said. ‘He has lived many years. He has much he can tell you.’
But Yuta has little patience
