Ten Years Had Passed Me By

 

 

            Wachiwi had been a faithful mother and teacher to me. Her daughter, Fala, had been an almost constant friend, as sisters mostly are. I worked beside her and together we learned the business of Nomad women.
            Together we prepared food under Wachiwi’s direction. Together we made deerskin clean, dry and useful for clothing. We learned to sew with sinew and bone needles. We had time for many whispered conversations, that as time continued, were of our hopes for our own tipi and our own hunter.
            Ten times we had returned to the camp by the river. Each year the site was clean, and the grass had grown tall and fresh. Game had returned and the river was busy with trout. It was good to be back, even though our yearly journeys had been very good, and I had seen many beautiful places. So many grand skies, fields, meadows, mountains, and even the great salt water which seemed to me to be limitless. I will say that standing on the lapping edge of that immensity made my mind grow open and ready in a way I could not describe.
            Fala grew tall and straight, with deeply tanned skin and a great falling shower of black hair. She was much like her mother and father.  She was beautiful.
            I only grew to the size of one of their half grown children. I was always paler, and my eyes were blue, and I had wild curly brown hair, which was always hard to control and to braid. Some said that I was beautiful in my alien way, but I couldn’t see myself, so it was only a thing people said as far as I was concerned.
            Each spring when we arrived at the camp, Jula would walk down from the people’s place in the mountain to meet me. We would walk together back home, as it seemed to me, to spend a night with Hofel and Put and everyone. There were always changes, but they were good changes. Osa had borne a child five years before this particular spring. Hofel was heavier and had more silver in his pelt. I still honored him for saving my life as he had.
            Each spring Jula said, “Soosha, dear child, I have missed you. Each day I send love to you wherever you are.”
            And every year I told her, “I know it Jula. Wherever I go you are with me.”
            This spring everything changed. Everything but one thing looked the same. Wachiwi, my second foster mother, my teacher and friend finished out her days and was buried in the grassy meadow.
            Then Fala and I had to be women indeed. We cooked for Hinto as he grieved. We moved around silently, not wishing to disturb him, or in fact, feeling like talking between ourselves. We wept silently in our sleeping places for many nights.
            The grass grew over Wachiwi’s grave, and we lived on without her.
            There was a young man in our band. Istu. Fala loved him, but he never looked at her. When he passed by, as he did often, he looked at me. This did not escape her notice. Her expression darkened. We spoke less frequently.
            Fala began to hate me. When she had occasion, she would harm me in small ways. Hinto, her father, had no idea. I had no shelter from her anger and jealousy. Then Istu began to follow me.  It was the old story. Love and hate and jealousy in one small place.
            I began to be afraid of both Fala and Istu. When he followed me away from Hinto’s tipi I didn’t know how to react. He didn’t speak. He was just always there, looking. I began to fear that I would be accused of something with him, which I didn’t even understand.
            One evening as the sun was setting, and the tall grass was golden, and the air was sweet, I looked around for Istu and did not see him. So, I felt that I could walk away from the camp by myself. It was such a beautiful time of day, and all the work of the day was done, so I had some freedom to wander. I was thinking about Jula and her people up on the mountain side and I was missing them.
            As I walked on, I realized that Istu was indeed following me. I panicked and ran. He ran also. He was only a big boy, but he was much bigger than me, and I didn’t understand what he wanted from me, or his insistence.
            Although I was afraid, as I ran, I began to notice a strange thing before me. It was like a rainbow. A circle of light becoming more and more distinct. It broadened. How could this thing be I thought to myself wildly. Inside the rainbow circle was something that looked like the waving edge of the immense salt water that I had seen with my own eyes. I stopped enchanted in my tracks. This great circle glowed and made all else seem dark and insubstantial. I forgot Istu and all that was behind me. I was totally absorbed in the moment.
            I could not have explained what I saw. I had no words for it. An object of some size formed before me. It was like silver on its surface and of a smooth long shape, more like a river pebble than anything else in my experience. It didn’t frighten me. It fascinated me. If anything, it drew me to itself.
            A part of it, on top, opened like a lid of some sort. A small person was inside the silver object. He had blue eyes and blond hair, and he smiled calmly. His size confused me. I didn’t know if he was a child or a man. But I trusted him immediately.
            I heard, or thought I heard, a voice. It said, “it’s time Soosha. Will you come with me?”
            As I walked toward him, I wondered what Istu would think of what he saw or what he would say to others. Then I forgot Istu, with all my future before me.

All 8136 words.