When I become older—when I’m fucking gray, she’ll be able to recall all those times her father climbed. She’ll have watched me, seen me, doing what I love. I never want her to give up on the pieces of existence that make her her. I want Sullivan Minnie Meadows to race one-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour. No brakes in sight. Don’t be afraid of the unknown in tomorrow. Don’t be afraid of death. There is no worse life than a hollow one. So be alive every second of every fucking day. That’s what I hope she’ll do.
