Ceiling and Ground

1 Our docent of limestone, a local boy hums, nudges the air where a glazed column has grown together. There, stalactites verge on stalagmites emerged from a pool of milky blue water. Amy whispers to me, “It’s easier if you just remember c is for ceiling, g is for ground.” I push the stroller. She holds Luke’s hand. Within our group of land dwellers, we descend further into the main chamber. It is a slow spiral downward. All must negotiate the slick decline. At one point, our young guide’s voice breaks as he beckons beyond the guard railing, says, “Over there’s Pluto’s Chasm,” and goes on to explain how it doesn’t end, or, at least, from what we can tell, it sinks through itself. In a moment of collective awe for the god of the underworld, it is then our daughter removes the pacifier Ceiling and Ground Jon Pineda 2 Ecotone: reimagining place from her mouth and hurls this most prized possession into the precious abyss. I wish I could say it didn’t happen. Shocked, the group then continues on, and we, parents of an irreverent soul, follow bowing our heads. Though embarrassed, I’m secretly pleased. I know Amy is as well, since she asks the guide if they ever have to clean out these caverns. The boy pauses, looking for the right words. I don’t envy him, nor the one he explains must be lowered with ropes and harness, searching the dark for those unfortunate signs of life. ...