Nimishoomis

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

It's been ten full days since Grandfather put in an appearance here.

I've missed his presence here, after seeing him so frequently. I missed him most of all today, on the day when I wrapped up his story elsewhere.

I was taken aback by how much that ending affected me. Writing it, the tears began falling about three paragraphs in, and didn't stop. After I hit "Post," I tied up a few things, then sat down by myself and just . . . wept. For the man I never knew, and all the others I never knew, for all that none of us ever had, for all that we were forced to have, all the breakage and the damage and the pain, generation after generation after generation.

But tears or no, there are chores to be done, and it was time to do them. After feeding the animals, Wings called my attention to something in the sky: the ferruginous hawk who has been visiting in recent days. Who he is, I have no idea; if I had to guess, I'd say he was Marsh's own father, but he may be a wholly different spirit. At long last, I captured a few shots of him in flight, but at such a great distance that he seems very small indeed.

When he at last flew out of sight, I turned to go indoors to to leave the camera there. On the way, for some strange reason, I looked southeastward, and a shape caught me eye. I almost kept going, but something told me the shape was not what it seemed, and I turned the camera back on and lined up the shot.

It was the bird I call Grandfather, the one Wings calls simply Grandpa, seated atop the first of the posts we set a week ago, staring straight at me.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

With the brilliant intensity of the late-afternoon sunlight, I had no idea whether the shot came out. So I kept shooting, moving slowly forward, catching him from slightly different angles.

Of course, I missed the in-flight shot, when he swooped down off the post to sail over something in the field. I've been trying to get him in flight for two months now, to no avail.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

At that point, I almost went back inside.

Something prompted me to set everything else down and walk around to the south to see whether I could find him in the field.

In the intervening moments, he had swooped back up, and had landed atop one of his favorite perches, the post at the center of the round pen. He sat there a few moments, looking at me, looking southward, looking east, grooming himself, preening his feathers.

I asked him whether he would give me the gift I'd been seeking for all these weeks.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

A few moments later, as I focused the lens, he gathered himself, then took flight.

I don't know whether he'll return; I hope he does. But it feels as though, like his somewhat-fictionalized namesake, he too is with me, his spirit entwined with mine, carrying me home.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.