The Bear

by Andrew Krivak

Will I miss you one day? she asked. One day, the man said.

Animals are creatures of habit, he told her, their stories written over and over again. In the snows of winter, or over the dirt ground of summer, there was always a tale playing out, and it was the hunter in the end, if she was a good one, who would write the epilogue.

That every thing has its end. And we have a part to play, right up to that end.

Once upon a time, loss was, for many of your own, the only constant they knew. But it is no less difficult or constant now that it is only you. Nor will it be on the day the earth alone misses you, though it will see years of my own cubs born and sent to wander before you cease to rise with the sun.

You’re hungry, I know, said the dreambear, but you need to be hungry for more than food. More than sleep. We all go to sleep and will be asleep for a long time. Be hungry for what you have yet to do while you’re awake.