The Ferryman is rowing hard through stormy waters. I sit tucked up tight with my head ducked away from the wind and spray. I wonder if it’s worth it to go out in all this weather. Does it make sense to make the effort, take the risk?
I keep forgetting about the Ferryman’s promise of something in exchange for this. I think of it now, and ask, “What will come to me in exchange for this crossing?”
“Sustenance,” he answers. “A strong flow of support.”
“But what good am I taking over? I have nothing with me to offer for my part.”
“You carry in you the awareness of what it’s like to not be broken. Hold that awareness against broken bits and coax them to wholeness.”
“That would be something.”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”