Father knew he made a mistake but he couldn’t bear the pain of doing so. It was easier to pretend that he couldn’t be wrong than to know that he had changed something forever, unable to revert it to what it he thought it was meant to be. Choices, his and otherwise, had turned a field into a mountain and by God that mountain wasn’t supposed to be there. He would claw and hammer, stab and rip at the foundation of this earthly wonder when he remembered his guilt. He was strong, at least he believed himself to be, but every strike was and will always be futile. However, he neglected that there was an opportunity that wasn’t possible when that space he regretted was still a field. There was something to look for, on the top of that mountain. Each hurt and each failure, each victory and each pleasure had built this mountain up high and by God the view from there was beautiful.