Today’s world walked right
into my life like a bossy, opinionated old, troll.
I have a beautiful niece
I adore because she is so mater of fact in her observations.
“How did this
two-year-old get so much power?” she might ask, which is my opinion,
“How did this world get
so much power?” And maybe this is the reason I slip back into the world
my mother created for us, so many years ago. Her Native American ways
were how things were done in our home. For instance, children were often
placed in the care of grandparents, usually, one at a time. Because we
lived closest to my Scot-Irish grandmother, in my formative years, the
most time was spent with her. Not to say I didn’t dearly love my Native
grandmother, and was given some time with her, early on. Later, after
the death of Gramma Bell, when I was older, Gramma Lizzie was my cohort.
Gramma Bell was strict.
“Put that back where you found it!” In a stern voice, she insisted on
neatness. Gramma Lizzie did too, but in a different way, like gently
handing me a pan back, that had just been washed, but was not scrubbed
clean on the bottom. Mother was always too busy with five children, and
she could have cared less if the bottom of a pan was not shiny, clean.
Once in a while, I cross
paths with a dear old friend, who was raised by her Native Mother and
Father. She is my only link, I believe, to the old ways. When I see her,
I promise myself more time will be spent with her, but in my mind I know
this bossy, old troll-like world won’t let that happen. I’m left to only
enjoy her quiet observations which are as poignant as statements made by
my lovely young niece. My friend laughed with me over our weakened,
aging, state. Of course, only she remembered our strength in comparison
at games during our youth.
“Are we on our last
legs?” She smiled.
I had to chuckle as I
remembered Grandma Lizzy saying, “Oh you will get your second wind,” but
I didn’t think fast enough to say that to this Native Mother, my friend,
as she stood at the check out stand with her children and grandchildren