She rushed in front of him to pull the door handle when they walked up to the restaurant. She opened the door saying, “This way sir!”. When she laughed her head went back, and he noticed she really did look like a woman when she did that. All he could think of to say was, “Funny lady…” They both smiled.
Once they were inside though the staring began. He had been going there for 2 years and had never seen anything like it. When they found a table, a young blondish woman walked over setting 2 menus on the table. She said nothing and walked away. And she was not smiling. The two of them looked at each other.
They were on a first name basis now, so she said, “Nathan what do you want from me?” He looked at her bewildered, saying nothing. “Nobody is nice to a Trans woman unless they want something…..so what do you want….? Her raised eyebrow told him more than her words.
“Oh God!” was all he could think of to say. “You think that??” He was stunned and hurt by her words. “I don’t want anything!” Ok that came out too loud. A couple of people turned to look at him. “Ally why would you think something like that?” She was quiet but her eyebrow lowered.
The same blond waitress came out to take their order a short time later, but she said nothing. She simply stood there silently, with a disgusted look on her face, holding her notepad and pencil. They did place their order and he was about to say something else when the waitress walked away silently.
Ok now he was hot. Ally could see it coming, and cautioned him, “Nathan don’t!” Too late. He pushed his chair back, stood up and declaring loudly said, “Hey wait a minute! Who do you think you are??” “Nathan please! Sit down!” Ally was beginning to panic while the whole restaurant was quietly watching them….” Yet he continued, “You can’t treat people that way!”
He smelled wood burning but it was the tug on his chest that woke him up. Someone or something was pulling on his left bicep. And for some reason he couldn’t open his eyes.
“Hold still!” A woman’s voice pushed him back down again when he tried to sit up. He forced one eye partially open, “Stitches?” he asked. She must have pulled him away from the wolves, and she was stitching him up. He passed out again from the pain.
When he awoke, he was inside the earth……wait no……he was in an earthen lodge. The wind outside told him they were in the middle of a tenacious storm. She offered him a bowl of something warm. All she said was, “Drink.” He did, and it was smooth warmth going down. He tasted honey, ginger and lemon. Lemon? Where did she find a lemon?
She looked at him with a knife in her hands. waving it at him “I know you’re immune from the last disease, otherwise you wouldn’t be here….my name is Brie, and I think we should help each other…..but if you ever hurt me……you will be a dead man.” She meant it and he knew it. He tried to say he would never do such a thing…but he couldn’t speak it.
Her face was beautiful and round, but she had one scar on her right cheek. A knife fight? She had long black hair, and he realized she was from one of the tribes. She had the smell of buckskin and lavender.
“The drink will help you sleep……I’ll need your help in a few days, delivering.” It was only then he noticed she was very pregnant. He fell into a deep sleep……thinking that she was attractive, but he was worried about the knife……. at least he did know how a child is born……
When I was a kid, my Dad would take me to see the fireworks. We would sit on the hood of his car. One year it was a ’66 Ford Falcon, with a stick shift and dual exhausts.
Just after dark the first explosion occurred scaring the daylights out of us, then 2 more, sounding like cannons. Soon the rockets would spiral up, until finally bursting in multiple colors. You could hear the fire.
It was different then. Racism was very real, yet was more hidden because there were no videos. It hadn’t been invented yet. Thank God for videos. Holding people accountable. And when it came time for Richard Nixon to resign, Republicans agreed, and he was out the door in a hurry. Ah yes, as it should be.
There were no shadows threatening our democracy. Bullies telling lies. Hurting our people. It hadn’t been invented yet. All we had were CBS, ABC, and NBC. Later there was PBS.
Yet it has always been a good and right thing to celebrate our freedom. Celebrating who we are at our core, and who we need to be. That each of us is created equal. Yes, celebrating the dignity of our humanity, that all people should be treated fairly. All people.
Our ideas and our diversity make us strong.
And we can wave our flags. May we always carry freedom in our hearts!
I sure do enjoy writing like this, as you probably know! It is my art, but more than that, it is very much who I am…..as I share pieces of my light. My intention is to encourage both you and I.
Please understand though that when I write of overcoming pain and suffering, it doesn’t mean that I am going through anything at the time. Yes, I write from experience, but I do not write as a therapy.
I simply create, often praying about what I should write. And when I do or sometimes even before I even get to that point, the words just flow through me, in varying degrees. That’s how my poems are created, and how I came up with the term “wordflow”. Maybe you write poetry like that too.
As a side note, I haven’t started on the renovations of my site yet, but I will soon! I want it to reflect more of who I am now.