A Visit from an Ancestor

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

It's been a week since I wrapped up Hunger Road . . . and a week since Grandfather last appeared here in this place, in this form.

The last few days have been extraordinarily difficult physically: in part due to the drastic change in the weather; in part due to the workload we both carry. When my body is this worn out, my mind is not far behind, and it has been increasingly hard to do all that needs to be done.

When that happens, my cognitive abilities teeter and plunge, and my mood with them.   

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

By this evening, the fatigue had set fully in, bone-deep. So had the mental and spiritual exhaustion. In recent months, it has been just when I am at such a low ebb that Grandfather appears . . . but for a week, he has been entirely absent.

I slung my camera around my neck before trudging up the long drive to shut the gate; it's not uncommon to see small evening birds or other good subjects, so it's become a habit. As I headed toward the drive, I looked wistfully toward the post in the round pen, always one of his favorite perches. It was empty, as it has been for these past seven days. 

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

His last appearance coincided with my concluding of the telling of at least part of his story, and it seemed then like a benediction, a blessing, an assurance that I had done as he would have wanted, and done it well. he gave me the one thing he never had before: the ability to capture his image in flight.

As I walked past the carport, the post was fully in sight, empty. In that brief second, I felt myself wishing, rather sadly, that he would return, wondering whether last week would turn out to be his final appearance for the season . . . or for good. Suddenly in my mind, his voice (which I have never heard in life, only in dream states) came clear and plain: "When you need me, I'll be there."

Two steps later, and he was there. It was, quite literally, nothing more than the blink of an eye or the beat of a bird's wing, certainly not enough time for me to miss the sight of a raptor alighting upon it.

Yet, one moment he was not there; the next, he was. It was as though he materialized out of the sunlight itself.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

I took a few distance shots, then went up to close the gate. He was waiting for me upon my return. He gave me some twenty minutes and scores of shots, turning this way and that, allowing me to capture him from virtually every angle. Most of the time, he stared directly at me, particularly when I spoke aloud. The bird knows the old tongue — how, I cannot begin to understand, but he responds to it far more readily than he does to English.

And so, while last week was an ending of sorts, it clearly was not final. I think that I will see him yet again. And while my body aches, my spirit hurts no longer.

For now, I am linked to my ancestor, even two thousand miles from our ancestral home, and my spirit soars with him.




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.