Warrior of the Dreamcatcher

Just Enjoyin’ Life

Sittin’ on my side porch deck early in the mornin’ with my cup of java in hand…that’s my idea of peace on earth. It’s also early enough in the mornin’ that I can clean my system out and not have anyone lookin’ at me. I’m talkin’ loogies here and we all have ‘em at one time or another. Mine just happens to be early in the mornin’. It’s my own deck, my own yard and my own grass…so if I wanna drop a hocker…I will.

While my mouth was waterin’ and I began workin’ this hocker up from the pit of my sinus’, I started thinkin’ about my younger years. My buds and I use to have hocker competitions. There was about ten of us and every Saturday mornin’ we would meet at the old softball park. We would always test the wind because my dad taught me that if I was gonna shoot a hocker, I’d wanna go with the wind and not against it. Goin’ against the wind would only bring shame upon the hockee.

The old hocker would slap me in the face quicker than my mama if I told her no. I just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was more knowledgeable about hockin’ then the other guys were. Dad never told me ‘bout the curve hockers and standin’ in the wrong place at the right time hockers. Believe me, the curve hockers can bring a lot of

amuzement to the competition. Yes, I am famous in the 1970 Hocker’s Hall of Fame in my little town as the all-time, only time wide receiver.

What a memory and what a hocker I’d created and was wollarin’ in my mouth. Back to reality, I believe I am ready to do the Evil Knievel jump. I had one lawn-table, two lawn-chairs and a side railin’ to clear before it would drop into the grass. I really want a drink of my java but I’m not gonna swallow this baby. I’m gonna shoot it off like a rocket, into the wild green wonder…just for old time sakes.

One, two, three….damn!! That hocker made it no more than the first lawn chair. My wife’s chair! As much as I didn’t want to, I got outta my chair to go get a leaf to clean the slimy mess from her chair. I spotted a good leaf, a big leaf! I stepped off the deck to grab the leaf from the tree and when I turned around to step back upon the deck…oh my God! Forresta, my wife, was sittin’ in her chair.

I didn’t know whether to run or face the consequences. There she was sittin’ in her chair with her innocent mornin’ face and a cup of java in her hand. Well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, so I sat back down in my chair and mooned her with my pearly whites’.

“Mornin’.” I said.

“Mornin’. What were you doin’?”

“Oh nothin’ really. Just lookin’ at the leaves and I think summers

gonna stay damn hot. Anyways, I thought you was gonna sleep in this mornin’.” I was a bit nervous cuz I felt like I had done been caught.

“Yeah, right! How can anyone sleep in when it sounds like there’s a wild boar on the loose? Oops, sorry…no pun intended. Really Cree…I’m sorry.”, she replied as she placed her hand upon the center of the table with expectations for me to respond. Call me a sucker because I responded. I, too, placed my hand on the center of the table atop hers and in habit began rubbin’ her fingers with my thumb. She’s been my wife for seventeen years and she still brings out the man in me. Forresta is a beautiful woman.

With hair of coal black and eyes of the deepest brown, she hypnotizes my heart every day. Her skin is soft and tinted in golden brown. She has no butt, but she makes up for it with her round face full of cheek. Oh, I think I’m exaggeratin’ a bit, besides she’s kept me warm and happy for many winters in my life. In the winter she sleeps on the north side to block all the cold off of me, and in the summer she sleeps on the south side so the wind can reach me. She’s a true winter-babe and I love her with all my whole being. She’s not a big woman, she’s just fry-bread fluffy enough to make a man happy forever. Not any man, just THE man…me.

“Want some more java, Cree?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some more.”

“Good, bring me some too.”, she said as she chuckled but got up and grabbed my empty cup. She gave me a little peck on the cheek and all I could do was think about her butt. Not for lustful purposes…but I just wanted to see if my hocker survived the pressure it was under. I looked at her chair and it was clean. As she walked into the house…I looked at her butt…and there it was! My poor little hocker was hangin’ on by a thread, literally.

She had about an inch spread of wet on her shorts and a little bitty tail hangin’. I couldn’t believe what she did on her way into the house. She swiped her butt off. I guess she felt the dampness and wanted to wipe it away. I just knew I as in trouble now. I quickly plugged the headphones into my stereo, cranked it up and placed the headphones on my head. Like this was gonna keep me from being murdered today. I was thumpin’ my fingers on the table to the beat of the music, and at the same time I had a million thoughts goin’ through my head. Thoughts of how she was gonna react to a hocker smeared across her hand.

I suppose my thoughts had made me pretty jumpy for a minute or two because with my headphones blasting into my ears, I couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly an arm and a cup of java appeared before me from behind. I felt my insides turnin’ upside down and I did my own little jitter thing. But she gently pulled my headphones off, pulled my hair

behind my head and started kissin’ my neck. Okay…so when’s she gonna bite me?, I thought as she made my skin crawl inside out with her warm breath, and I didn’t say breast, upon my neck. She grabbed the hairbrush from off the table, which I had taken out earlier so I could brush my hair. She didn’t bite me, so all I can gather is she’s gonna beat my head to a pulp!,

Instead, she began brushing my hair rather softly. “You want me to braid it?”,

“Yeah.”, I replied. I tried to turn my head so I could see if she had changed her shorts or not. She sure was being nice! A little tooooo nice! Every time I tried to see which pair of shorts she was wearin’ she would pull my hair as guidance to keep me lookin’ straight ahead. I placed my hands behind my chair upon the calves of her legs. Oh they felt so good and soft. If I could just get my hands up far enough to feel the hem of her shorts, the I could tell…”Ouch!”, I yelled while the pain of about five hairs bein’ pulled outta my scalp brought tears to my eyes. “What’d you do that for?”

“Cree. If you want me to fix your hair you need to sit still and leave my legs alone.”

“Dang, how many did you pull out?”, I asked her. I wanted to rub my head but she had control of the reigns.

“No more than you deserve. You hocker-blowin’ bag of bones.”

I could tell she was angry by the way she yanked my hair every time she folded a braid into it. When I knew she was far enough for me to put my headphones back on, I did. Since I was gettin’ older and my hair had thinned out quite a bit, it only took her about five minutes or so to braid it. Five minutes of hell and sweat on my side. She’s a good woman, but she can sure be mean if someone crosses her the wrong way, and I crossed the line of crossin’ as far as she was concerned. She didn’t like that throat-chokin’, loogie-hockin’ crap anyways and I knew it. But this time it was a true accident!

Forresta is a good mama despite her views on loogies. When she was through braidin’ my hair she gave me a swift, but gentle slap upside the head and went in to check on our boys. I, on the other hand, lit a cigarette and tried to find a good music station on the radio. One that would fit my mood since it had changed so quickly and unexpectedly. Here it is, 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday mornin’ and I’ve already gotten on her bad side. What a way to start the weekend. I took a sip of my java and quickly spit it back into the cup. It was still pretty warm, but it was also pretty damn salty tastin’. A pay back I suppose. I took my head phones off for a while. I wasn’t in the mood for any kind of music right now.

I heard my Warrior son hummin’ and makin’ his way out the front

door. He’s a good boy, but onrier than all get out. He’s seventeen and

thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I don’t know where that attitude comes from. Well, what a sight for so early in the mornin’. A half-naked, three-quarter Cherokee teenager wearin’ his happy-face boxer shorts and lettin’ his hair hang to his waist. Damn! “Hey, Dad.”, he said as he sat down across from me and grabbed my cup of java.

“Hey, Warrior. What’s up? Don’t you think you need to do somethin’ with that hair of yours?

“Yeah. Mom said to wait out here and she’d fix it for me.”, he replied and took a sip of my java. Oh my God!, I thought to myself. Is he gonna swallow it? Sure enough, he did and I think this was the final dance to makin’ my stomach do a complete turnaround. If only he knew. Didn’t he see my spit floatin’ around on top or does he think it’s some sorta half asleep thing? He drank the whole cup of java in no time flat and he didn’t even blink an eye. He gave me that quick Indian nod as he sat the cup back in front of me, to say thanks. All I could do was raise my eyebrows and nod back. What a freaky boy! He’s half his mama for sure.

“Cree, did Warrior come out here?”, Forresta yelled as she came out the front door.

“Yeah, he’s out here waitin’. Where’s Moses?”

“He’s up but he went straight to the Nintendo, of course. I swear that’s all that little guy lives for Cree. By the way, did you like your java?” Warrior sat up tall while Forresta walked behind him and started using her fingers to comb his hair.

“Yeah, it was good.”, Warrior replied. “Hey Mom, do you think you can braid it this mornin’ please?” Forresta grabbed the brush and agreed to braid her over-grown baby’s hair. He’s always so cheesy lookin’. He’s got a skinny, little, eye-brow lookin’ mustache and smiles all the time and he does this jitter thing with his eye-brows. I decided to go check out the back yard and see what needed to be done today. No way was I gonna actually walk in the back yard because the land mines were one to many for a person to be walkin’ back there. God knows I didn’t want to be buryin’ dog crap today and so early in the mornin’ at that. I just pray that Forresta doesn’t decide to fix oatmeal ‘cuz I don’t think my stomach can handle it. The thought of Warrior chuggin’ down my spit killed my appetite for anything that would slide slowly and thickly down my throat. I wanna gag just thinkin’ about it.

While Warrior was getting’ pimped, I mean primped up for the day, I went to the shed to get the shovels so that we could start on the back yard. “Hurry up Warrior, we don’t have the whole day.” Moses came runnin’ out the back door to give me one of his mornin’ bear hugs, but when he made it halfway through the yard he quickly stopped. He started gaggin’ just cuz he saw the poop sunbathin’. “Get back in the house boy!” He was cryin’ and coverin’ his eyes and his nose.

“I can’t Dad. It stinks! I’m gonna throw up! It stinks!” Damn! I thought. I had no choice but to chance steppin’ in a pile of crap just to

go and help Moses get out of his poop prison. This boy is so different. Heck, we can’t even use Parmesan cheese when we want to or he’ll start gaggin’. We can’t sit by him if our food looks gross or if we’re eatin’ onions. He just throws up for no reason at all.

He’s five now and the doctor said that this throwing up stage is just a part of his asthma problem. He gives himself, self-inflicted anxiety which frightens his asthma. The doctor said that he could afford to throw up at least once a day, ’cuz if we put his asthma out in left field, he’s a pretty healthy little guy.

I carried Moses into the house and told him not to come back out until I bury the poop. He had no problem with that. I sat him down at his little table in the living-room where he was eatin’ his Cheerios and playin’ his Nintendo. Like I said, Moses is different. He doesn’t eat his Cheerios with a spoon…oh no…He uses a straw! He uses his fingers to place about 5 pieces of his cereal on his straw, then he sucks up the milk when he’s ready for it. “Okay little guy, eat your cereal and I’ll see you in a little bit.”, I told him while rubbin’ his head with my hand. He smiled at me and gave me a little pat on my back. He’s so beautiful and I’m thankful that he’s in my life.

I thought I’d better check on Warrior and get him motivated for the

day. I went out the side door onto the deck where Warrior was playin’ pamper parlor with his mama. “Warrior, we aint got all day. Come on let’s get it over with.”

“Dad, do we have to do it today?”

“Well, if we don’t do it today, will it get done? No-o-o and that is why there’s so much of it now. And if we don’t do it, who’s gonna? Now get up off your skinny little butt, get back there and it’ll be over with before we know it.”

“K, Dad, but tell me one thing. Are you gonna take your shirt off when we get started?”

“Yeah, why?”

“K, then. Let me go get my shades before we get started. Don’t wanna be blinded by the whi…, I mean light.” I kinda lunged at him a bit and we playfully slugged one another ‘til we got to the gate of the backyard. We lazily stood against the gate with our arms propped up on it for early mornin’ support. “How many do you think’s out there Dad?”

“Oh probably about fifty, I would guess.” Warrior placed his arm around my neck and asked me how come we couldn’t have just gotten a Chihuahua. “A Chihuahua? What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, Dad. Think about it. Look at this big ole’ horse of a dog we have who lays five-pound turd’s every time he takes a dump. Now, close your eyes…really Dad, close your eyes and think about a small, little, itty-bitty Chihuahua. It’d be like pickin’ up rat crap instead of a five-pound pile of left-overs.”

I couldn’t help myself, I opened the gate and shoved Warrior in the back yard. My stomach was upset enough without lookin’ at these landmines as left-overs. Warrior didn’t fall or anything but that shove got him a little bit closer to the shovel.

“Grab one.”, I said. “Do you know what your mama’s cookin’ for breakfast?”, I asked as I, too, grabbed a shovel.

“I dunno. Bacon and somethin’.”, he replied. We both started diggin’. We worked up a sweat tryin’ to get this crap buried before it started bakin’ in the real heat of the sun. The sight was bad enough, without havin’ the smell to go along with it. All in all, with two of us workin’ together, it probably took about an hour and fifteen mintues to bury these massive doggie left-overs. Mesho’, our chow, was beggin’ for attention. After buryin’ dog crap for this long, the last thing I wanna do is pet the damn dog.

Warrior started sprayin’ off the shovels to get all the crap off of them while I packed down the mounds we made in the lawn. I wanted that stuff buried and packed, also I should’ve known better than to turn my

back on that onry boy of mine, but I wasn’t thinkin’. I was in an instant

shock when I felt the cold water peltin’ on my back. Okay, that’s it!, I thought as I made my way through the stream of water, which actually

started feelin’ pretty good.

I made it to the source and the battle was on! I tried kinkin’ the water hose but Warrior somehow got his hands on my underwear and started pullin’ them up to my neck. Really, I thought. I could even feel my thought talk comin’ on with a high pitchy voice. It was either hang on to the kink in the hose or pull out the wedgie, and I think pullin’ out the wedgie would probably be the best choice right now. Ahhhh, freedom, I thought, while pullin’ that deep wedgie outta my butt.

I gave into Warrior pretty quick. I think the old bones are agin’ quicker than I ever thought they would. We chuckled a bit at the fun we had and started in the back door. Forresta was standin’ right there in the doorway. “I don’t think so. You take those clothes off before you even think about walkin’ in this door!”

No way, I thought. I know she’s not askin’ me to get naked right here in the back yard, is she? I opened the door anyway, but Forresta quickly moved in my way…right in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Um, depant please. That’s the only way you are comin’ in this house. You shouldn’t have gotten so soaked. You’re not trackin’ it in ’cuz I just mopped the floor.”

Well I could see there was no way out of this spot except to give into her demand. I looked around at the neighborin’ houses to make sure those nosey neighbors of mine weren’t peekin’ out their curtains. I looked at Warrior and nodded with an okay. I’ve never depanted so fast in my life, bowed to my woman and walked into the house holdin’ my head up high. I had nothin’ to be ashamed of. While I thought I was holdin’ my own and walkin’ with pride, that onry boy of mine grabbed my butt and screamed like a woman. Damn near scared me right outta my skin. I slapped his hands away from me and quickly ran into the bedroom. I couldn’t wait to put on some clean, dry shorts so I could eat breakfast. The house was filled with the aroma of bacon. Mmmmm.

While walkin’ up the hallway to the kitchen I could hear Forresta puttin’ ice into glasses. Yes! Orange juice, I hope…I thought. We sat at the table, all except Moses ‘cuz he already ate his breakfast. The bacon was sittin’ in the middle of the table on a big plate and Forresta dumped us each a big, tall glass of orange juice. What a woman! Warrior and I carried on our own conversation about what all we had to do today. Forresta turned around with our breakfast in hand. Oatmeal! Really! Oh my God, not freakin’ oatmeal. But, I was always taught to eat what I am given without makin’ a scene or bein’ unthankful. So I did just that!

After breakfast, Warrior helped his mama clear the table and do the dishes. I, on the other hand, went to the livin’ room and played a game

of Nintendo race cars with my Moses. Moses has to win all the time or else he cries. So, I did some crashes, some bashes and some runnin’ off the road just so he could get ahead of me to win. It wasn’t much as

far as competition went, but it was a whole lot better than doin’ dishes. I hate doin’ the dishes, but I think I’d rather do them instead of buryin’ dog crap so early in the mornin’. After helpin’ his mama with cleanin’ the kitchen, Warrior went straight to his room, closed the door and cranked up his stereo.

I think they call it rappin’ these days. Warrior plays the bass really high and I feel that if he keeps doin’ it, the walls of this old house are gonna cave in…that’s my story anyways, and I’m stickin’ to it. I can see the pictures that are hangin’ on the livin’ room wall dance along with the beat of the music. Boom, boom, boom!

Oh well…so goes the differences in generation I suppose. I believe they should be able to have their own choices as far as music, clothin’ and hair-dos go. However, when it comes to their education and attitude…I make the choices. Anyway, I got tired of givin’ into Moses with this stupid Nintendo game, so I went to the kitchen to visit with my woman for a while.

Forresta was standin’ at the kitchen window dazin’ out at the yard. God gave her some nice rounded hips, ‘cuz if he didn’t I don’t think she would know what to do with her hands when she’s standin’ around doin’ nothin’. I approached her very quietly and slipped my hands in

between her arms and around her waist. I stood rather close to her backside, of course, ha! I placed my chin upon her head. Mmm, I thought to myself. I love standin’ at her backside. I think it’s just a man’s comfort thing. “Hey babe, we still goin’ to your Dad’s house today?”

“Yeah, it’s just another Saturday like all the rest. Plus, he expects us to be there. I think he wants me to cook today, and of course, I’ll probably have to do dishes first.” I gently and slowly moved my hand to her butt and softly started to rub it.

“Well babe, we could just stay at home today and get freakin’ cheeky!”

“Dang Cree, is that all you think about?”, she asked as she quickly wiggled herself away from me. She always says that there’s a place and a time. My heart says…anytime is a good time! But she always seems to put me into her right mind of thinkin’. She has this habit of placin’ her eyes to the far corner of her eye slots, and it cuts through me like a knife. I simply call it cuttin’, and she does a damn good job of it. I’ll just say that when she starts cuttin’ it’s probably best that I back off. Now, when she’s cuttin’ with a little smirk, I just have to take my chances and dive into the situation.

“Oh come on. I was just kiddin’”, I told her as I followed her over to the counter. It’s hard for me to keep my hands off her ’cuz she’s so

beautiful. This time she turned facing me as I approached her. I kept space between us, and I placed my hands upon her shoulders. “I love you. When we get to your Dad’s and you need help, I’ll help you babe.

okay?”

“Okay.” and victory took place. Ha! She pulled me towards her and gave me a very sensual kiss. Yeah, I know how to work it, I thought. Now I have to mind my manners or this closeness will end just as quick as it got started. I’m not gonna do anything wrong ‘cuz I’m thoroughly enjoyin’ this short lived event. I’m beginnin’ to realize that, yes…all good things do come to an end. Gotta make her feel important. Gotta let her be my world…and that’s how you do that…for a little lovin’.

“Mom.”, Moses said as he wedged his way in between his mama and I, “Can I have some more juice?”

“Hey Mo, lookie…my mama!” I knew that Moses would fight all the way to make sure Mama was his and only his. He used all of his little strength to push me and his mama apart.

“My Mama!” he yelled and growled at the same time. Forrest back off from me and started pourin’ Moses some more juice.

“Okay you two, it’s just too early for this fightin’ crap. Stop!” With a little foot stompin’, eye cuttin’ effect which was ripplin’ my way, I

quickly gave into her demand. Again! I’m not stupid, especially when it comes to those combo attention getters. She blames it on her bloodline but I know it’s just sheer meany-butt-itis. As long as I let her think she has the upper cut on things, she’s a happy woman. As long

as the Mama is happy, damn near everyone else is happy as well. I like bein’ happy and I’ll almost do anything to keep her in the comfort zone…know what I mean?

Since she glared t hose knife-cuttin’ eyes at me, I decided it to be best if maybe I went outside to find somethin’ to do. Maybe I should just clean the car out!, I thought to myself. It sure is better than sittin’ on the porch talkin’ to myself with the neighborhood eyeballs watchin’ and thinkin’ I’m crazy. Just in case they were watchin’ me…I picked my nose for good measure. Actually, I just acted like it and added a couple more maneuvers, for an eye-pleasing effect. Now not only will they think I’m crazy, they’ll think I’m a buger eatin’ wacko. Cool!

Forresta would shoot me if she knew half the stuff I did just to amuse the neighbor’s eyes. What’s their problem with starin’ anyway? Haven’t they ever seen a sexy man such as myself actin’ like a normal person? A buger-eatin, loogie-hockin’, sexy, studly, eyeball-catchin’, turd-diggin’ man, that all the women love to peek at. Forresta’s just damn lucky to have me. Not really, but I’ve got to give the neighbors somethin’ to gossip about.

Well…cleanin’ out the car was gonna be a breeze. It really isn’t that dirty. Moses has some toys stashed away in here just in case we go on any long trips. Funny thing though, I think in his mind all the rides we take are long trips cuz’ these toys are always out of his tote bag. While pickin’ up the bits of wrappers and papers I started thinkin’, What if the

window-peekin’ neighbors aren’t women? Oh my God! What if they’re men? Knowin’ I was layin’ down in a comfortable position while cleanin’, I quickly pulled my legs together and creeped up slowly to see if any of the neighbors’ curtains were slightly opened. Lookin’ down at my legs didn’t make me feel any better about the current situation.

If anything…it makes it look worse. I tried crossin’ them…umm but looking at that position made me feel even worse. Now I felt really naked ‘cuz I didn’t have a shirt on. I don’t know if I was feelin’ naked or nasty. If women were peekin’, hey that was alright…but if men were lookin’ maybe I’m not livin’ in the right neighborhood. I think I’ll take this little bag of trash into the house to throw away and get me a shirt to put on, I thought to myself. Actually I wanted to slap myself stupid for even comin’ up with this perspective of the hood-peekers.

I had to figure out how I was gonna get into the house without that nasty feelin. Should I run? Should I walk like the stud that I am with a jig and a I don’t care attitude? If I run will it look like I’m prancin’

and will my boobs bounce…Oh God what do, I do… I will walk…Let ’em all want what they can’t have. I got into the house and placed the little bag of car-trash into the kitchen trash and quickly went down the hallway. Forresta had the hallway blocked with dirty clothes. “Give me a shirt babe. Any shirt will do. Dirty, clean…I don’t give a crap. Just as long as it’s not one of yours, that’s all I need is extra bumps on the front of my shirt.

“Cree, you hardly ever wear a shirt outside. I thought you was runnin’ for Mr. Love-of-the-hood this year. What’s up with you? What you covering’ your boobs for?

“I’m cold…just give me a damn shirt!”

“Here”

“What? What you give me this shirt for? Really? I know you’re not doin’ that to me! I’m a man, not a flower wearin’ half man, half woman.”

“Come on Cree. It’s the finest of silk and it smells like me.”

Oh, I know she wasn’t playin’ games…like right now. It kinda made me angry. While watchin’ her, I spotted one of my own shirts and quickly grabbed it. I put it on, wrinkles, smells and all. “And per say,

why would I want to smell like you? What if one of the neighbor men came over and I smelt like YOU? I was thinkin’…Forresta what if the hood-peekers are men instead of women? What if they’re those kinda men who like men? What if…

“Oh, God! What is your problem? Cree what are you talkin’ about. What was in your coffee? Did you smell to much poop? They’re just interested in us ’cuz we haven’t been here as long as they have. We’re

still kinda new so it makes them wonder what kinda people we are. Where’s all this comin’ from anyway? Funny thing ‘cuz all of the sudden she was in the mood for cheek games. I couldn’t even think about that subject right now. My skin was crawlin’ with yuck-bumps.

When she touched my lips with her finger I about fainted. She’s just not listenin’ to me. She doesn’t understand what I’m talkin about and how my stomach is just sick, sick. Oh my God! I’m not even soundin’ like myself. Listen to me! I’m startin’ to sound…Oh my God…feminine? Okay Cree grab ahold of yourself. I mean…no that’s not right either. Damn! Wrong use of words here. Take deep breaths and calm myself down! I am a man with two boys and a wife. I’m not like the hood-peekers. If they’re men. That’s it! They’re probably not men at all. Okay, I can go outside and finish cleanin’ the car. Okay I can do this!

I let go of Forresta’s hands and told her I was gonna go finish cleanin’ out the car. “Okay, but watch out for the hood-peekers, you know the man-seekers!” and she chuckled. Really she’s gonna laugh at me?

I walked to the front screen-door. I looked left. I looked right, kinda like a little kid playin’ hide-and-seek. Oh quit Cree. What is wrong with you? You know you’re a man. Just put one foot in front of the other and walk out to the car and get the damned thing cleaned out so you can go to her Dad’s house. Yeah, just get it done! I got half-way

out to the car and, “Cree…you need to loosen those butt cheeks up a

Bit! Run, Run to the car!”

I guess I’ve been married to Forresta for too long, ‘cuz I now caught myself doin’ the eye cuttin’ thing. I didn’t want the hood-peekers to see me lookin’ at them. Sheesh! Okay…I made it to the car, slipped into the seat and shut the door behind me. Crankin’ up the stereo and rollin’ up the, oh so tinted-pimpin’ windows gave me a sense of comfort and confidence. Locked inside my own little world and no one can see me! Yeah…

I really didn’t want to go to her Dad’s today, but it’s just somethin’ that we’ve done every Saturday since we’ve been together. Like I always say, if the woman of the house is happy…so is everyone else. There’s my answer right there. My woman is always happy and I’m her supplier. I am the man! THE man! Ha!

Seein’ that the car was as clean as I could possibly get it, I went into the house to let everyone know that it is time to get ready to leave. To gain Warrior’s attention when he’s listenin’ to music, is like wakin’ the dead. I didn’t even bother knockin’ on his door, instead I opened the door and walked silently by his bed side. Even in the day time his bedroom is as dark as a cave man’s casa. Hmmm…what an opportunity this is while he’s layin’ there in musical slumber and not able to hear anything at all. What can I do to get his attention?

I figured since the kitchen was right across the hallway, I would get

a cup of warm water to help him wake up. I sneakily walked to the kitchen, grabbed a plastic glass and filled it with warm water. Not to warm…you know, kinda body fluid warm. I went back to Warrior’s bedroom with my glass of water in hand. Standing next to his bed being careful not to touch it or bump it, I held the cup above this special place and slowly but carefully began pourin’ the water. After dampenin’ his smiley face boxers with half a glass of warmth, one would think he’s at least flinch or somethin’. I placed the glass of water on top of his dresser and quietly walked over to turn the light on.

“Warrior, Gotta get goin’ boy!” He jumped a little and began to sit up. He grabbed his crotch and pulled his boxers away from his special spot with his fingertips. “What’s wrong with you? Oh…no way! You didn’t…”

“I dunno.” and he got up out of the bed. He looked at me with a puzzlin’ expression and looked back at his bed. While sittin’ back down on the edge of the bed with the same dumb-founded expression, he just shrugged his shoulders. I sit next to him and began explaining to him how this sometimes happens to the best of us and that it was nothin’ to be ashamed of. With his head hangin’ low, I decided it to be best if I left him alone to figure out what he had done in his slumber.

I walked down the hallway to find Forresta to let her know the car was cleaned out and awaitin’ it’s passengers. Boy did I find Forresta. She was in our bedroom changin’ her shirt and there is no way I was gonna pass this up! I crept up behind her and gently kissed her bare

shoulder. I wanted to travel a little further until I spied Moses sittin’ on the floor next to the bed. Forresta would never forgive me if I gave into my passion. She’s a very modest woman and keeps things in perspective as far as moral and value go. Well, it was time for me to set my passions and desires behind my heart for the time bein’ and get the goin’ to Grandpa’s house…done and over with. This way I can spend more time with my passion…in reality!

We finally got around and loaded in to the car for the long drive. Respect is a big part of our families’ heritage. One should always respect and care for their elders. They’ve visioned the past, endure the present and interpret the future. When I drive to Grandpa’s house I

always seem to have a silent teacher whisperin’ to my spirit. It tells me how I should pay more attention to the footsteps of my ancestors. I have been astray from my culture and my heritage for some time now. I’ve conformed to a comfort zone…one without ceremonials and traditions. Forresta wants our boys to learn the ways of their people and to learn who their people are. I, on the other hand, conform to the present days and have learned to take things as they are.

While the teacher whispers to my heart, I truly enjoy this magical drive of visitation. Grandpa lives on tribal land and the roads which wind to his house are beautiful. I don’t know if this is somethin’ I feel or if this is what the teacher tells me. But my eyes see the beauty and the greatness of God’s wonder. Just when I was really fellin’ a part of the nature which surrounded me, nature was becomin’ a part of my

over-filled bladder. I had to pee and it couldn’t wait for the comforts of Grandpa’s house. I had my shades on so Forresta had no way of knowin’ how bad my eyeballs were floatin’.

I looked for the crowd of trees I used to play in when I was growing up so that I could pull over to relieve myself. “Pit-Stop!” I pulled over to the side of the road. I didn’t dare look at Forresta ‘cuz as bad as I had to go, I don’t think I could’ve handled her cuttin’ me in half with those looks of hers. I put the car in park and fumbled with the seat belt for a while…I didn’t think I was gonna get loose before wettin’ myself. I

don’t know if this slight panic attack had something to do with those

loveable, dark brown eyes cutting my gall bladder in half, or if I was about to be paid back for what I did to Warrior earlier today. When I finally worked my way out of the car, I looked back at Warrior and he was cheesy as ever. He knew. He knew I had to pee really bad and he knew that the teacher was correctin’ my error.

Just as I fumbled with the seatbelt…so did I fumble with my zipper. The crowd of trees was located about twenty feet from the road were I pulled over. I ran like a mad-man carryin’ a bucket full of water and not wantin’ to spill a drop until he reached his destination. Oh my God! I thought while it felt like my guts were bein’ emptied on the ground. I couldn’t have pee’d fast enough…it was so wonderful! There is no way I could’ve waited ‘til I got to Grandpa’s house. Walkin’ back up to the car I began rememberin’ how many times these ole’ woods have saved

me. Even as little guys, my buds and me found out that we didn’t have to go all the way back home and quit playin’, just to use the bathroom.

I got back into the car and started our journey again…but feelin’ good. It seemed as though the rest of the drive took no time at all. All the windin’ roads and miles of trees brings justice to a man’s soul. The trees have grown so tall with limbs that stretch with invitation. Inviting the birds to sit and soak in the rays of the sunshine. They chant with thankfulness and I baste in their songs. Then…well, there’s Grandpa’s

house, which quickly pulls my heart back to reality. Grandpa’s house looks like a drive by junk shop. One looks and all they wanna do is drive by.

I dunno why he saves so much junk or where it all comes from, but I need to mind my manner outta respect for my wife. We pulled up into Grandpa’s make shift driveway, which is actually his yard with some pretty deep, dried up mud ditches. The mud ditches are caused by everyone getting’ stuck when they come to visit him. Grandpa is well known here on tribal land. He is a short sorta guy with salt and pepper colored hair. He humps abit at the shoulders and I really don’t understand why. He doesn’t wear his teeth long enough to add that much weight to his bodies composure. Usually he keeps his teeth in his pocket and Moses can’t stand this part of Grandpa’s attire.

When Moses was smaller Grandpa would chase him around in the yard and tell him he wanted a kiss, but what Grandpa didn’t quite understand, is that Moses was scared to death of his mouth when he didn’t have his teeth in. It’s probably has to do with me and the things that I used to tell Moses. Things like how Grandpa didn’t have any teeth and was unable to control his suckin’ power when he gave kisses, and that someday he was gonna suck someone all the way in. So when

Grandpa did chase Moses in the yard, in that one little boys heart, he was actually runnin’ for his whole life.

Grand was sittin’ on his rocker on the front porch waitin’ for our arrival. We all got out and went to greet him. All I was hopin’ for, for Moses sake, was for Grandpa’s lips to be on the outside of his face instead of swimmin’ around on the inside. I shook his hand, and there

he was…lips and all! Thank God!, and I turned around to help Moses get through this greetin’ process. My bad. My fault. Funny thing though…when I turned around Moses’ was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the yard abit and didn’t see him, but something was moving around in the car. There he was.

I walked back to the car to see if I could talk him into relaxin’ just a bit. Shouldn’t I have known it? Moses’ had locked all the damn doors and had some of the biggest alligator tears runnin’ down his chunky cheeks. It was me that put all this fear into his little heart and I felt really bad about it. I looked back at Forresta for a plea of silent help, but who would be trottin’ my way? It would be Grandpa with the tennis shoes that sound like flip flops when he walks and legs that even a rooster would be more than glad to hump. I was just now getting’ ready

to play hell for all the suckin’ stories I have told my son. Grandpa tapped lightly on the car window where Moses was sittin’…and just like the wind that boy was on the other side of the car. Whoosh!

“It’s ahright, Mo. Grandpa don’t want any kisses today.” Just then Grandpa tapped on the window again and my poor little man was brave enough to face him. Grandpa cracked a little smile, you know, enough to show a little teeth and not an empty hole, just enough for Moses to realize that he would be suck free another day. Today I’ll be a hero in my son’s eyes. I’ll carry him to the safety of his mama’s side and away from the mouth that he feared the most. Seein’ that his Grandpa had

his teeth in, gave Mo the comfort of knowin’ that if Grandpa did kiss him, the teeth would become the protection he needed against the all mighty sucker. I pray that someday my little man will grow outta this fear that I bestowed upon him. Someday he will see that the mouth he feared the most, was a mouth of great wisdom mixed in with just a little bit of stink, of course.

After all the drama, we finally made our way into the house and became civil again within each other’s hearts. Forresta made some ice tea while Warrior, Mo, Grandpa and myself watched television and participated in some small talk. Poor Grandpa. His television doesn’t receive very good reception, and poor me because the reception ends up being whatever we talk about. Grandpa talked the boys into goin’ to see somethin’ with him that he had in his backyard. I decided to let them have their time and to let it be exactly that…their time. I spent enough time listenin’ to those chatterin’ teeth.

Grandpa, Warrior and Mo visited the little half-shed, half-chicken

wired shack which stood way in the back of his yard. It sat at the end of the yard and at the beginnin’ of the woods. I remember when Grandpa took me to the shed to show off his secret. After seein’ this secret of his, I actually begin to love it and saw a spiritual side of him that I had never seen before. It was so big and loveable. I wanted to hold it and admire it for what it was and what it stood for. I had never seen anything like it in my life. I wanted to take it home with me, but

Grandpa said it was his and it belonged in his spirit world. He told me it needed to be sheltered in complete darkness for it to grow healthy and strong…spiritually. He also told me that now it was our secret and not to tell anyone else…and I never did.

Grandpa harbored an eagle in this shed. An eagle that he’s had since he was about 30 years old. The Elders around here have all pitched in at one time or another to take care of Grandpa’s eagle…that he named “Secret”. I often thought it must be an elder thing when all the men sat in the yard talkin’ ‘bout their big secret, and that I shouldn’t interfere unless invited. One never knew what Grandpa was up to half the time. The thought of these Elders takin’ so many trips to the shed and always talkin’ about the secret, didn’t look to good when I was a little boy. For the people who didn’t know about Secret, I just wonder what they thought as well.

I hoped the boys enjoyed this family secret and to respect it for what it is. I stayed in the kitchen with Forresta while she was making the fry bread and goulash.

I kept lookin’ out the window…I don’t know why…I just did. We talked awhile about Warrior and the dreams he was havin’ almost every night lately. We wanted to talk ’bout it while he wasn’t around us so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Warrior used to have really bad

dreams when he was younger, but Forresta and I prayed and thought it was in the past until recently. The dreams he was havin’ seemed to control him sometimes and he had no understanding of them. As well as me and his mother trying to put the bits and pieces together. We felt helpless.