Some force too subtle to feel carries cloud fragments up the Gold Creek valley. I can see then from Chicken Ridge, which makes me want to hurry to the creek valley to watch their passage. Aki has other ideas. She examines and rejects a myriad of spots to pee and resists any encouragement to move. By the time we arrive, the air above the valley is empty. Then another train of the ghosts appears. Should I be surprised? Soon people in the Americas will celebrate a Day of the Dead. Europeans will visit their cemeteries to remember their loved and departed. I think of our family’s beloved gone as the cloud fragments dissolve against the slope of Mt. Juneau.