The Heart of a Cherokee

Growing up, my family and I would take long summer vacations every year. We would travel to different places and visit relatives. This was the best time of the year. My favorite place to visit was always Cherokee, N. Carolina. My parents would rent a cabin in the mountains and we would sight see for several days.          One particular year, in 1965, when I was eight years old, I met a boy. He wasn't just any boy. He was a Native American boy. Now, understand, I had seen the Cherokee people every year for as long as I could remember.I would stare at them and admire their black, shiny hair and their smooth dark skin. But, I would not dare to speak to any of them, as they were so different from myself and my family.          I had heard stories of how they were savage and had very little education. The only thing was that they had the most beautiful land that I had ever seen. Secretly, I thought they were also the most beautiful people that I had ever laid eyes on.          On this particular day, I was strolling along windowshopping and being bored. As I looked up ahead, I gasped and caught my breath. There in front of me stood an angel, or so I thought. The sun was streaming down, shining on the most lovely little boy. His hair shone so black that I swear it was the color of the raven. His eyes sparkled with life, giving me the impression that he was smiling with his heart and it shown in his eyes.
          Our eyes met at exactly the same moment, and I knew, no, I felt, that we were meant to be friends. We met halfway and in that moment we were inseperable. His name was Tommy. I didn't think that sounded very Indian, so I called him Tom-Tom. Each time I looked at Tom-Tom's face, my heart would flutter with a feeling of strangeness I had not experienced before.
         Every day I would rise early so Tom-Tom and I could spend as much time together as we could. He taught me about his culture and how we weren't so different. His parents invited me to dinner one evening. I was so excited to see Tom-Tom's home. I believed all Indians lived in teepees, so I felt as if I would get a first hand look.
         As we arrived at Tom-Tom's home, I was caught by surprise. His home was a cute little cottage alongside a creek bed. There were flowers planted along the sidewalk and around the yard. Decorations were scattered along the property, giving it an inviting feeling. I learned another lesson that day. Seeing is believing. I would never base my beliefs on what other people say.
         On the last morning before we were to leave, I was to meet Tom-Tom on the hill above town. As I got closer to our meeting place, I saw him standing there, his hand raised in greeting. I noticed sitting beside him was a large box. Tom-Tom asked me to sit inside the box. I couldn't imagine what he had in store for us. He jumped inside the box beside me and the next thing I knew, we were tumbling down the hill.
         As we tumbled, our arms and legs were meshed together, as if we were one. And that is how I felt at that moment. I had never felt that way before, nor have I ever felt that way again. The best feeling in the world, two hearts as one. I understood the true meaning of friendship that day.
         Saying goodbye was a very emotional moment for me. It was hard as I had grown so fond of him. Tom-Tom and I swore to be friends forever after. The years that followed were always the same. Our friendship grew each time we were together.          I was sixteen the last time that we saw each other. I've had many dreams of a handsome Indian man, leading me through the woods. I know this is Tom-Tom. He taught me the way of the spirit. He said we would always be together in our dreams.
         I am thankful for the time that we had together. I am a better person for having met Tom-Tom. I will never forget this friend of mine. He has a piece of my heart forever after.