H01006443.mp4 | CERTIFIED |

The video didn't start with a face. It started with the sound of wind—a low, rhythmic thrumming against a microphone. The image was shaky, the high-contrast sunlight of a late July afternoon washing out the colors. It was a view from a moving car, the camera pointed out the passenger side window at a blur of golden wheat fields.

The camera panned inward. It caught the dashboard of the old blue Volvo, a pair of plastic sunglasses sliding across the plastic, and finally, his father’s profile in the driver’s seat. He was humming a song that had been out of fashion for a decade even then. h01006443.mp4

"Elias, put your arm in," a voice laughed from off-camera. It was his mother. Her voice sounded younger, lighter, stripped of the exhaustion he remembered from her later years. The video didn't start with a face

A hand entered the frame. It was small, a child’s hand, reaching out to "surf" the wind. It was a view from a moving car,

The video lasted only forty-two seconds. It ended abruptly when the car hit a pothole, the frame tilting toward the floor mats before cutting to black.