The Accidental Interlude Her hands were the first thing that attracted me to her. Long, slender fingers, nearly concave between the joints, 'piano hands', I thought to myself. Not a blemish on them. They were delicate, but strong, and when she spoke, her hands moved with her words, like the conductor of a symphony. Her hair was very dark, not quite "jet black', with only a few stray strands of grey, right there along the tresses that fell from her temples, which somehow framed the angular features of her face. Almond-shaped eyes, deep within the shadows of her brow, "Choctaw-eyes", I thought to myself. They danced with her occasional demure glances towards me as I tried to turn on some kind of well-intended, albeit self-serving charm. She was small-boned, with fine features, like a ballerina, or perhaps a dancer. Her skin glowed in the light from a nearby window, the sunlight filtering through venetian blinds, and glinting off of her skin like the sun reflecting from low tidal seas. "Walnut", I thought to myself, trying to come up with my own best description of her skin tone. Her name was Nancy, named for her grandmother. Her father was Cherokee, her mother was Choctaw. She may well be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and as I fumbled through my conversation, trying not to sound too inquisitive less I frighten her into silence, I became quite enamored with her. I could not quite put my finger on what was so exotic about her, and then it came to me. The color of her eyes. I had at first thought that the sun was creating the illusion, but when she finally looked directly into my eyes, I found myself staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I have seen. Blue, like the color of a new born kitten's eyes, or an Air Force uniform. Blue, like oil streaming through a puddle of water, or perhaps some electron-telescope image of a supernova. Deep, iridescent, blue, with only the black of her pupils interrupting their seemingly homogenous appearance, as if a child had used a crayola and completely colored them leaving no spot untouched. Mesmerizing. "Where did you get such blue eyes?" I blurted out. "From my daddy's side, I guess, he was Cherokee", she replied. So many People from other tribes have gotten so used to seeing blue eyed Cherokees, that today, some mistakenly think it is an inherent characteristic of Cherokee, like the Modocs, who for some reason, occasionally have blue eyes, even among the ones who are 'full-blooded". Hence, her comment that it must've come from her daddy's Cherokee folks. Well, I was feeling pretty brave at this point, things were going pretty good, so I asked, "Just how old are you?" The blue eyes flashed first indignance, and then a hint of flirtation. Her hand touched mine, "I'll tell you later", she said. My heart seemed to skip a beat, as she pulled her hand away. We visited about her upbringing, first among the Cherokee, and then the Choctaw. She spoke fluent Choctaw and Chickasaw, but only a little Cherokee, much to my dismay. I asked her, in Cherokee, where she lived? She just shook her head, not understanding, and smiled a little, just at the corners of her mouth. The conversation was too short, I was needed elsewhere. I literally had to tear myself away, from Nancy, the blue eyed Cherokee-Choctaw, who I found myself falling for, in just that short a period of time, love at first glance. "I have to go," I stammered, "maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" "Maybe," she said, and once again shot me that sidelong glance with the smile at the corners of her mouth, "Maybe you will." I gathered up my belongings and headed for the hallway. "Wait", she called out, "You never told me Your name?" Just like me, what an idiot, "Wauhilau", I said. "Interesting name", she replied, "Well, Wauhilau, I'll see you tomorrow?" "Of course," I said, and I returned to her and took her beautiful hand in my own, and held it there, not wanting to let go. "I'll see you tomorrow, I promise." Well, I nearly danced a jig to the hallway door, almost made it through the arch of the door, when she called my by name. "Wauhilau?" "Yes?" She sat up in her bed, and brushed back the wisp of gray from her temple, looked at me with those blue choctaw eyes, and with a small melodic laugh, said, "I'm ninety-three." |
"The Accidental Interlude" © Wauhilau as posted in
alt.discuss.clubs.public.culture.native-american.benable
on Thu, Jan 5, 2006, 8:49pm (EST-3)
| Lost Love A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a beautiful soul I had the occasion to visit with and share just a little of my time with. If you remember, The Accidental Interlude, the subject line of that post, you will remember me telling of a beautiful blue eyed ninety three year old who captured my heart. She passed away this last week. A true 'lost love'........... Donadagohvi, Nancy. |  |
"Lost Love" © Wauhilau as posted in
alt.discuss.clubs.public.culture.native-american.benable
on Sat, Jan 21, 2006, 10:34pm (EST-3)
"Tears on a Rose" midi courtesy of élan michaels bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass