Pocahontas 2

Continued from last Wordsday Thursday!

Catch up with last week here: Pocahontas Part One

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"Close your eyes," she prompts. I do. We are sitting cross-legged on the ground next to her small fire. The dying embers provide a gentle heat on the bare skin of my arms, legs, and face. My idle hands find their way to a scab on my ankle and I pick at it absent-mindedly.

"Now," she instructs, "Think about your dream. In your mind, what stands out most?"

I screw my eyes shut tighter and let my head fall back. What do I see? What do I remember? Running. Always running. The day beginning. I am always running into a lightening sky; a rising sun. But why? Of course...

"The face," I answer. "It's a man's face. But I don't know him. He is strange looking. He looks older than me... definitely not a boy any longer. He is strong, but I feel I must save him." I open my eyes. "Why, Grandmother Willow? Why would I have to save him? How? I mean, look at me." I do not mean this literally- she cannot see anymore. But she knows what I mean. I am small and scrawny.

She chuckles quietly. "You can save him, Pocahontas, because you are so much stronger than you think you are." I am unconvinced, and she can sense it. "Pocahontas, what is more powerful: the rain or the wind?"

I sigh. "The rain, I guess. We need it to water our crops, and fill our rivers."

"But Pocahontas," she says, "Can't the wind make the rain go where it chooses?" I have no argument. "And with wind, my dear girl," she tells me fondly, "you can't see it. You feel it." She puts her hand gently on my cheek, then stands, brushing herself off. She heads away from the fire, facing the river. Her silvery mane of hair is blown gently around by the breeze, as though proving her point.

"And change is in the wind, I fear," she says quietly, almost to herself. I scramble up off the ground to join her.

"What do you mean, Grandmother?" I inquire. It is obvious things are changing: it is harvest time, and now the leaves of the trees begin to change color. We are on the cusp of fall. But I sense she is speaking of something else. "Is it the spirits?" I ask softly.

My grandmother is one of the few who communicates with the spirits- it is an honor, a rarity. We grow up respecting the spirits, and we are taught they are everywhere. In the rocks and trees and water. In the sky and in the ground and everywhere in between. I have heard many people in my village whispering to one another that I might someday have the gift, but I doubt it.

"Yes, child, the spirits. They tell me something is coming. With the autumn breezes comes something else. Something we have never seen before. Whether it will be good changes or bad, I cannot tell. But I know the transition will be difficult." I can tell she is worried, and that troubles me.

I reach over and hold one of her hands in both of mine. We are together, and together we will face anything.

Something skitters across our feet. Meeko. "Hungry again, you little pest?" Grandmother Willow laughs. "It is comforting to know some things will never change."

She smiles, and I smile back.
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Till next time!

Sarah