Challenge 23 - Maybe

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"So, why exactly do you think the human race deserves to live?"
I hesitate. That's a loaded question. I'm sure my visitor has asked it before, and certainly in more sophisticated circles. Instead of an answer I pick up the open bottle of red an pour two glasses. It's a cuvée 2015, I fondly remember that summer. It was the last year with Mara. A beautiful summer with my beautiful woman, the light of my life. Her cancer took her from me only weeks after the harvest. 2015 turned out to be the best red I ever made. And I drink every drop of it in her memory.
I hand one of the glasses to my alien guest. He takes it with a small smile. He looks so human. It's only these unnatural silvery veins in his eyes that give him away. He could cover them with sunglasses or contact lenses. That he doesn't seem to bother sends a shiver down my spine.
I lift my glass and he follows suit, well versed in human customs. We both sip our wine, me lost in my memories of better times, him with that disturbing smile playing on his lips.
I still owe him an answer and I bet he knows I'm stalling.
"Well, I'm sure there are lots of reasons why your people should let my people live. I'm also sure you heard them all. Why ask a stupid lonely old man like me?"
"Maybe your answer is different. Maybe it makes all the difference."
"Maybe."
I contemplate the dark red liquid in my glass before taking another sip. It tastes of summer, of flowers, of love and maybe a little bit of the bitterness of loss. I sigh.
"I don't have an answer for you. I lived a long and mostly happy life. When I was young I wanted to change the world, make it a better place. Then I met Mara. She was the perfect fit, I was sure that together, we were invincible and could reach the stars. But time got the better of our dreams. We struggled on. There were good times and bad. She was always at my side, when I was exasperated she helped me on and I did the same for her. So, I'd say our lives were mostly good. But why should that qualify me as a judge of humanity? I know what humans did to this planet. I know all about big plans gone awry and big hopes lost. Do I believe in humanity? Maybe, at least a bit. Have you ever watched ants collecting food or bees buzzing from flower to flower? Humans are like that, always busy, building, trading, trying to better their lives, moving around frantically even if it seems pointless from another ones view. It's our nature, just like its in the bee's nature to collect honey or in the vine's to grow towards the sun."
He watches me silently with this unsettling eyes. I feel obliged to add something.

"Look, I live here alone. There are hardly any visitors anymore these days. Probably I'm just a bitter old man. I lost my wife years ago, in the very year this wine was made, actually. I always thought that something of our last summer together was captured in this harvest. But this is the last bottle. I think I'm ready to go, to join her wherever she is waiting for me. So I'm certainly not the best person to ask. The politicians might have your answer, or a young child, maybe."
"You really loved her, didn't you?"
The question comes unexpected. I stare into my glass, before I take another sip. The sun stands low, colouring the leaves in the vineyard golden. It's a beautiful autumn day, Mara would have loved it.
"Yes, I did. We had our fights, but she made me a better person. And I miss her terribly."
He sips his wine, his face unreadable. I don't care. I enjoy the silence, watching the red kite circling in the evening sky. He does this daily and observing him has come to be one of my favourite pastimes.
The silence between us spreads out. It is a comfortable silence, nothing awkward. The sun reaches the horizon, mere minutes of this day are left. His voice is soft.
"Of course I talked to your politicians and celebrities. I also talked to an alcoholic seal hunter in Greenland and starving children in central Africa. I met a prostitute in the suburbs of Lima and a mass-murderer waiting for his sentence in at Chinese prison. I crossed the Mediterranean in a boat with desperate refugees and sat at the bed of a girl with AIDS. They all have in common that they cling to life."
"That's a very human trait, I think. We keep going, always finding new hope somewhere."
He nods and empties his glass with an almost longing look. Then he sets it delicately down on the rough wooden table. The last rays of the sun touch the leaves as he stands up. I follow suit, taking his warm, not quite human hand. Although I know that he will probably refrain from answering I can't help asking.
"What is your decision then? Does humanity get to live?"
For the first time his smile seems genuine.
"Maybe."
While I watch him walking down the path through the vineyard into the fading evening light, I feel at peace with myself.


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