That is what we are in the end, stories

And the world will blame you.

Grampa Ira had three children. Charlotte was the oldest. She always talked down to me. Next came Ira's son— my dad, Rudolph. He and Grandpa were never close. But then again, dad is not close to anyone. Last —and BEST— came aunt Iris. Iris married the perfect man. His name was Barry Allen. Barry and I shared some special things. We were both superheroes. He was The flash and I was his kid sidekick. More than that, we both loved Iris. As far as we were concerned, she hung the moon and the stars. Iris died about 3 years ago. I haven't seen much of Grampa since. Desperate to avoid conversation I begin puttering through old boxes. With a twinge I realize what they contain. They are on irises personal effects. Apparently, grampa had forgotten he had them. Iris was so proud of barry. She kept scrapbook after scrapbook detailing his career. I wonder if I am in any of them? Oh put it in neutral, Wally. They were the king and queen of Camelot. You were just a serf. A court jester. Kid flash. Iris gave Barry so much of her heart that I was lucky there was any love left over for me. Barry was her world. I miss you Iris. I wanted you to be proud of me too. Guess you never knew that, did you? What's down here? This one looks different from the rest... "for Wally" oh Iris... you knew EVERYTHING`

—

The summer I turned 10 was the summer I stayed with her. The best summer ever. I'd just spent the previous decade in presenting Blue Valley Nebraska with two people who had no business being parents. Iris called and offered to put me up for a while when school let out. I'd finished packing by the time Mom got off the phone. I've never been that excited before or since. If I ever had lived in Omaha or St Louis or Flagstaff, I would still have been thrilled to be with her. But she lived in Central City home of The Flash. The coolest place in the world. Dad came home from work to see me off. I told him and Mom not to worry about me. As if they would. The bus ride was 4,000 miles long. It took nine weeks. I'd sweat that on a stack of bibles. Though it had been three Christmases since I've seen Iris, she stayed in touch with letters and clippings about the flash. She treated me like a friend-- not like a kid. We were two allies protecting each other against the rest of the West family.

—

"Is that it? That you don't want me bothering you? Why are you so mean to me?" "Look, we don't have time for this poor poor putupon Wally thing. You are my son and you're coming with me!" "You don't care about me! "Of course I do! I'm out here, aren't I?" "I'm not going!" "It's not up for discussion!" "NO! I WON'T LIVE WITH WITH YOU! I DON'T LOVE YOU!" "what?" "YOU HEARD ME, I DON'T—" And then there it was. Lightning. I was fortunate. There were enough leaves and branches underneath to cushion my fall. Dad wasn't so lucky. He was pinned. I tried moving the branch, but it was too heavy. "Dad! Dad, get up!" He couldn't hear me. I couldn't hear me. My ears were filled with a frightening roar that sounded like the end of the world. When I turned to see where it was coming from, I stopped being scared. There is no point in being afraid when faced with a tornado.

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