7

So, I think I’m a little confused. I haven’t written in a while; it’s almost as though I forgot how important it is, being able to talk to myself. There have been times that I’ve written pages of words, just to narrow my feelings down to a single sentence. I know my recent lack of interest is because I haven’t wanted to talk to myself about Dad, but time is what I’ve got right now, time and a few questions I should already have asked.

I’m on the Venture, drifting inside the wormhole. The sensors are a mess, not that I care much. It’s funny, that now I find the time to thin k about what I’m doing a little more carefully. When I finally decided to do this, back at B’hala, I knew-absolutely-that 1 would stay for as long as it took, and that if I actually made it this far, I would spend every minute anticipating our reunion.

Ah, naive youth. And hope. Because I wanted so bad to believe that he isn’t gone, that these last few

months have been just another adventure, another wild and seemingly desperate situation that all gets worked out in the end. Another situation that ends with my father and I, together, because I love him and I miss him in my life. When I translated the prophecy, it was an answer. A solution.

I’ve been here a single day, and with each hour that passes, my doubt flourishes. This is what I’m starting to think: The prophecy is an answer because I haven’t been able to let him go. I was putting off the inevitable acceptance, and Istani Reyla showed up with a way out before I had to face my loss.

That’s kind of a harsh summary, and not the whole truth. The prophecy itself, the parchment in my hand-there’s power in it. It gives me a sense of the incredible, of the possible… . I’m not saying that the prophecy is false, just that my reasons for jumping right into it were certainly influenced by my hope.

Put like that, it seems too obvious. I’ve missed writing. I tell stories because I want to tell stories; I

write because I want to understand.

The prophecy is real, I still believe that. I believe there’s something genuine about it, anyway. But I also believe that if it isn’t, if the whole thing turns out to be only madness and hope, I’ll be okay. There’s enough of me to take it.

I’ll wait. Time is the one thing I have too much of.