(Ham on heads)
(…) I thought I might follow just to see or confirm. But I might have been here before, some leg of life unmemorized thousands of years ago or into the future. Why make the journey again if just to circle back?
Here’s Ham, alone in the desert, and this is the way that he thinks. He has much more difficult to understand thoughts as well when he gets into time and space and motion and theory, but the above gives an easier to understand version of what’s going on in this character’s head.
He also applies these intellectual philosophies and intelligent calculations to much of his daily living routines and yet without being a jerk about it. In the background, of course, is the history, the future, of his brother, Geronimo, and his mother. So he’s obviously very smart, very dedicated to his seeking of universal answers, and still a likeable, caring person. So what’s he see in Pen?
It doesn’t matter. He’s taken with her. Albeit a charming and exciting trait, Pen’s predisposition of offering grounding then flying off on newly grown wings would be, I should think, the very thing that Ham would avoid, would fear, based upon his losses of loved ones before. Perhaps the Butlers provided enough for him to have overcome what might have crippled emotionally a less stable personality. Perhaps Ham, in his patience with Pen, is unconciously setting a trap that once sprung by the least of the ghosts, Pen, will make up for all the rest in this single capture. Maybe he’s just a masochist.
The main thing is to not try to tell the character what he should do: Go find yourself a nice lady who loves kids and cooks like a chef–Ham’s mother being one to liquify food before serving, another path to explore next time I come up to it. An interesting proposition, not knowing exactly what’s in Ham’s mind, not knowing if he himself knows, or cares, or is just clicking on links same as I.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology