When There is No More (part 5 of 8)

Fifth part of an 8 part writing during Hurricane Sandy

Thought…the last week has lingered slowly, time passing, with sleeping skins for warmth. Only an occasional trip for bodily relief calls the girl from the little warmth needed to sustain. Oh, I lie. The birds have been fed; the dogs and cats cared for to sustain them. The next week will linger just as slowly as the waiting for power restoration is anticipated. They tell us perhaps next weekend, but no promise has been made for this area, it could be longer than we are told. There are moments when all the girl can do is weep, grieving deeply for many things. She longs for the warmth and protection she and her partner offered each other long ago. She thinks back to 911, and how the two of them sat quietly day after day, wondering where life would bring them when things were once again restored, once their friends had been found in a mass of destruction in the city.
But today the girl is alone with just her two dogs and the bounties of the Great Mother, lacking human companionship, lacking any true friendship of another human being. She questions why the many people who have entered her life, which she extended hands of friendship to, had used what they could of her kind spirit, and simply walked away. Tears flow uncontrollably. Clutching her bone heron and her amulet, she knows it is her destiny, for she walks among the heron people.

Thoughts…It is ironic what has been written in the last paragraph. It has been a long and most awesome day that took me on a short journey, yet brought me to the heron, waiting with open wings.
There had been plans made, but all plans change, much like life. I meandered across one mountain and down another, venturing to an elderly friend’s house to celebrate her 76th year of life, and use the facilities inside a warm home. I had planned to take the long way in, and check on the swan I so dearly love. I had dreamed of her in the storm that night. Instead, I became engulfed in thoughts of the heron and took the secondary roads over to her home. Five miles away from my destination, I brought the car to a halt, gazing at the most amazing sight my eyes had seen in a very long time.
At first I thought of not approaching the building I knew all too well as a child, but in the yard stood carved statues calling to me, especially the four foot tall, 120 pound heron carved from a tree. My heart leapt with joy as I got out and stroked the feathering of wood that formed her body. As I looked up with tears rolling down my cheek, I noticed the Manitou, the Medicine Man, the Mog-ur, the wild stallion, the bears, and the eagles.
Oh this is to be a much longer story than it should be. But I must tell the story, as a keeper of the old tales, the old ways, the old songs.
The statues, all carved from one piece of wood, were for sale. Here I was wondering how I would replace all that I would need for winter that has been lost thus far, and now I was with thoughts of how I could possibly manage to bring the heron home with me. Am I crazy? I cannot afford to buy anything and still exist right now. It has been more than a week being cold, hungry at times, and in pain from the cold. How could I even think of such a luxury? I felt as though I had stepped into my own dreams…heron, Mog-ur, Manitou, Cave Bear, Wild Stallion, and Eagles all presenting at once.
I inquired of the price of heron, striking up a conversation with a most unusual man. He was a man of gentleness and knowing, yet still fitting the typical look of the burly, toothless mountain men of the area. It struck me odd to hear him speak and know about each species he had worked from the trees. I thanked him graciously, and told him I would be back, that with the problems remaining from the storm, I just was not in a position to spend money right now freely that was needed for survival. He smiled gently and said “Heron People have the inner gift to know how to survive this.” I was amazed and left feeling renewed, yet also feeling my heart throb as I left the heron in the yard.
Sometimes our needs are met when we least expect it. It came to mind that one person in my life would understand. I stopped and made a call, my prayers were answered, and on my return trip home this day, the heron accompanied me, in the back seat of the car.
The uncanny part came when I had picked him up from the gentleman’s yard. I looked up at the old building, now his residence. I was not aware that the tears had begun to flow from my eyes. The man questioned my grief, and for some reason the truth of why I wept came out of my mouth before I knew my lips were moving.
I replied to him, “Better than 50 years ago this dwelling was an Inn. I was seven years old at the time I was brought here by a caretaker, sold at the bar, and passed around to be abused like a Turkey at Thanksgiving. This was where I had my first drink and drug, induced against my will at the hands of violent men.” After I had said it, I stood there with a most shameful look upon my face. He simply touched the top of my hand and told me “Heron will protect you always”. As I looked up I saw the tears in his eyes, my heart wept in silence with heron all the way home.
“Luna” as I have named her, sits in my house tonight, all four foot of her carved beauty. The dogs have gently inspected her, as I go to her and stroke her sides with gratitude. I have been blessed in a most unusual way this day, I am forever grateful to the Great Mother.

**The phone just rang…I am now going to be blessed with heat produced by a generator for the weeks to come that we still will remain without power. My son in law has found it in his heart to bring me an electrical source. I am grateful as the tears flow once again.

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