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Interviewer: Is it important to you that your son make
it in the NBA?
Parents: No, if our son wants to be a social worker, or
study romance languages, or be an engineer, that would be okay.
Interviewer: But what if he wanted to become darkness,
like in the garage? What if he only wants to pray?
Parents: If our son gave up basketball tomorrow and
decided to be a doctor, or a lawyer, that would be alright. Hell, a
used car salesman, I guess, if he wants.
Interviewer: But what if he became determined to commit
false imbroglio? What if all he wants to be is exhausted?
Parents: If our son doesn’t make it in the NBA, but
instead becomes an ambassador, a university professor, a speech therapist,
a psychiatrist, what is that to us?
Interviewer: Yes, but what if he wakes up daily
developing pictures in the soft part of his council? What if he
speeds backwards into a remorse that hurts when you tell it to? What
if he decides he just wants to crowd?
Parents: For a living? Well, if that would make
him happy.
Interviewer: But what if he gives up on happiness, never
having left the theatre? What if he lets go of speech except in the
most rudimentary runways of airplanes hit with geese? What if you
find him, one morning, touching a silo?
Parents: Whatever our son wishes to do, as long as it
involves the known world. Wherever he wishes
to go, as long as it’s forward. And as long as, when he gets
there, he’s arrived.
Interviewer: You must be proud to have a son. You
must be vigilant. You must not go there anymore, and return with bad
light.
Parents: It’s the burning leaves that makes us sad.
But you’re right. I just hope our son understands.
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