Ageless Memories

When the warming winds blow across the gentle swaying grass and the many tribes of geese head north towards the grandmother land, it is the time of year that old grandmothers and new young mothers take the camp apart for cleaning. Lodges are cleared of bedding, furs and grass mats are pulled out for the sun to clean, and the entire village is alive with chattering - tidbits of delicious gossip festering from the cold winter like a toothache that will not go away.

Young fathers are busy teaching their sons to make bows and arrows or making tracks in the rich earth to see if their students can identify the animal print they made. Young warriors are off to the hunt to fill the dwindling larders that sustain the tribe. Young lovers sneak off for a precious few moments alone before they are abruptly called to work.

As an old warrior of the tribe, I am left alone to do as I please. My days of hunting and teaching are behind me. My days of war and raiding are but fading memories. My sons and grandsons have taken over my duties, as it is meant to be.

I am off to escape the chirping women, the crying babies and barking dogs. My old body is worn and my mind is dreaming of the days beyond this life. My favorite spot is along a gentle flowing brook, close enough to the village for safety, but far enough away to give my wandering soul a little peace and freedom.

As I lower my skinny backside into the cool morning sand, distant memories of pleasure and pain crowd into my mind. I place my aching feet into the gently flowing water and a simple and precious peace flows into my being.

Leaning over the water, I watch as the gentle ripples turn my wrinkled face into the spirit of laughing man. The fluffy white clouds high above are reflected from the water like ghostly signals from the sky. The sun touches me with its radiant heat and I smile at the memory of another heat often shared with my beloved.

I watch as dying leaves are blown from the sandy shore and scattered across the surface of the stream. They are like the days of my life, used up, dying, but full of great and wonderful deeds. The gentle wakes they create as they disturb the placid surface reflect moments of anger, of joy, of pain, of happiness, of the beautiful life I have lived.

I pick up a smooth stone from the warming sand and feel its surface with a callused hand. Like me, it has been shorn of its jagged edges and now submits to the inevitable. I gently place it back into its bed of sparkling warmth, not even tempted to toss it into the stream to see it plunge into the icy water. Like me, it has earned its rest.

Peace and freedom flows over me like a sweet breath upon the air. The pebbles caress my aching feet like the gentle fingers of my ghostly wife. The sunshine glances from my eyelids as tears of tender memories caress my happy face.

What more could a man want than to have lived a life of honor and freedom. I have been blessed to live among my noble tribe and the days of my life have been many. The Great Spirit has been honest with me, as I have also lived with honesty.

My white brothers reside in their castles of wood and brick and stone. They have spent their lives in harsh and bitter toil. Their dreams I cannot share. Their grandchildren are hobbled by the chains of their making, their journey in life laid down like children walking in a circle.

Run free, my sons, and feel the wind. Run free, my daughters, and feel the sun. Your castle is the sky, your journey has just begun.

I am content. The sweet smell of life runs free in my veins. The Great Spirit has provided all that I need, all that I want, all that I seek. The bounty surrounding me is priceless.

This is my story. It has taken many years to build but only moments to tell. Life is like that. In youth it seems to last forever. Now, I look forward to joining my beautiful wife and seek approval from my fathers for a life well lived.