This Time

“This time seems different “. My mom reflected after my aunt and her sister made her journey across the river. That phrase comes from the tribes of the Native Americans. We aren’t Native American, if only a trace. I like the expression because it symbolizes a cleansing and a path into something new. A different plane of existence. We aren’t meant to know what is on the other side.

I feel what my mom said on most days. This is a season of our lives that no one save our ancestors would know. Every birth is a hope, a promise. Every passing is a sorrow, a memory. We are stewards of the past with the charge to connect it to our future. This is Legacy.

It is an honor and a burden. The ones that choose must not falter. The history of our people must be told right. Details mean the difference between fact and fiction. Their memory depends on the words we use to tell their story.

I have done my best to be a steward. Many of my sources have left me. My mind has been attacked along with my heart, so I pray that I can remember the stories. I also pray that my child comes to the day that they matter enough to share with his legacy.