Whose hand will hold it then?

The fossil beds around Blue Basin, Oregon, hold eons of stories of all the lives that existed here before us.  One layer shows a forest of nut trees.  Another, a warm shallow sea.  Another, the bones of ancient dogs, tiny camels, a bear with a horse’s head.  Millions of years of ecological stories stack like the pages of a book; creatures who lived a thousand generations apart nestle together as strange bedfellows.

We find ourselves on the top layer of this story, knowing our geological moment is brief.  We are the fossils of the future… Will anyone find what remains of us (bones, furniture, plastic?) and piece together these fragments to tell a story?  Whose hand will hold it then?