Walking and feet really hurting gathering berries I sat down in the boll of a tree and asked father to help answer some of my questions, maybe dispel some of my confusion. He said okay. What have you got?
Why am I constantly held back and stopped?
Easy, you’re not. Because if there were no stops between berries and that which is not good to eat, between trees and spaces between the trees, you couldn’t be walking with me, gathering berries in the basket. I mean honestly, son, without the space inside the basket there coulnd’t be a basket. I’m sure you remember that one.
I do. So is there ever a place where I’m not going to be stopped?
Sure — it’s called the place where the stops stop.
But that’s like a super-stop?
Well what do you want to call it when they stop stopping?
Are you really my father?
How can I be your father, asked the wolf? I am a wolf.
He was gone if he had ever been there, but even though it was beginning to snow and my feet were called!called!cold! I was able to fill a basket with berries, and then another, before it would be time to turn home.