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Show 202 "This!" his father said, sweeping a gesture through the plane window. <*i6'e " I have «*fe friends in the East," Sean said. The three set down in West Yellowstone just after 3:00 and were at Lake Lodge in a rented Charger before five. "Me and Grampa!" Sean staked his claim on room distribution. "You and Todd and Mom can have the other room." "We're old friends," Hunt's father said. And he stretched his hand out for his grandson. "I'm just the driver." Hunt tried to make i t a three-part s p i r i t. "Nevermind me." "Should I t i p the driver?" Hunt's father asked Sean. "Sure," Sean said. Hunt's father drew a dollar bill from his wallet and extended it to his son. Hunt took it. What was going on? What was happening? Hunt felt like a passerby, a witness. He was being shown line. He was being shown shape. He was being shown color. In his hand was a dollar bill from his father; Hunt could suddenly observe, in memory, all the many years, the rite and ceremony of his weekly allowance. A young man and one old stood before him, lit both with smiles of such playfulness and self-assurance. Hunt's father believed in the revolutions of science. And Sean in the revolution of Youth? What, even, were Hunt's questions? and why did he feel, curiously, at a threshold? |
