He was always pushing me to go. “Get out there, boy,” he’d say. “That’s what we’re meant to do.” I wondered, when I got older, why he didn’t go, if he felt that way. I thought maybe he’d been scared, or set in his ways. But now I think it’s because he knew that wasn’t for him. Some of us have to go, yes. But some of us have to stay and kick the others out. Otherwise . . .’ He scratched his chin. ‘Otherwise all we know is the same place. My great-pa, he was right. We’re meant to go. And we’re meant to stay. Stay and go, each as much as the other. It’s not all or nothing anymore. We’re all over
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