Mother, May I
“Alright. Let’s run through it again,” I say to Freya.
There’s a fresh pot of dirt on the ground, a seed tucked inside for the Earth challenge. Outside the door: a hose for the pool, a pot of mature white-tufted dandelions, charcoal bricks, and an ingot of ore—each waiting their turn to be manipulated and transformed.
“Are you fucking serious, Nate? We’ve done it four times already!” she whines.
“And we’re gonna do it a fifth,” I say, unbothered. “Let’s go. Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, and Metal. In that order.”
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