Wisdom of HER Ages

Part I: The Journey

She picked up the stone and pressed it to her lips. With eyes closed she felt its coolness. Slowly she ran the stone along her lips on up over her cheek on each side of her face. Slowly, very slowly.

The smoothness of the stone made it look like a polished gem. But it was a river rock whose surface was smoothed by the water rushing over it.

I will call you “Swift”, she whispered.

Powdery pollen swirled in the breeze giving it a misty look. The late afternoon sun was dimmed by the denseness of the substance that was being carried on the wind.

She looked up at the sky not bothering to cover her eyes from the sun’s rays. A hawk flew high in the clouds, a clear sign to her that messages were being delivered. The stone in her hand moved … just a little giggle. It did not startle her but she wondered how it was that the solid object she was holding could move on its own. She did not give it a lot of thought however and held it more tightly in her hand as if telling Swift that he was not suppose to be able to change position.

Time passed quickly. It was nearly dark when she turned to leave the wooded area that followed the winding river. The call of a crow caused her to stop and turn around. There among the trees and brushes she stared into the bleakness of the night searching for the crow on the limbs of the trees. Again she heard him, “Caw … caw … caw” ... three times he called to her.

She stood still holding Swift loosely in her hand, so loose that she nearly dropped him. Five minutes then ten minutes passed. She could not remove her gaze from the trees in front of her that went deep into the forest.

A blink. What was that? She blinked again trying harder now to soften her focus. There was a sensation of lashes batting against the palm of her hand so very lightly.

“Swift! Is that you,” she cried? But there was only silence.

There was movement in the forest though, she knew it. She could sense it and amazingly she thought she could visualize it too. But that is not possible, she thought. Trees cannot move, they can only sway in the wind. They cannot wave their limbs except to bend them when the guardians of the wind commanded it.

Her hand was open now. Swift was speaking to her though there was no sound.

Take me with you when you sleep tonight. Hold me while you slumber. I am a recorder of history, your history, Earth history. I have acquired much knowledge over the centuries. I am very old and have been waiting for you for a long, long time. I have traveled many miles to reach you, rolling down hills, riding the current of the rivers and summoning the people who have carried me across the land. I rested here until you finally reached for me and now I am home.

Part II: The Dream …. to follow shortly

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