These Native Lands

The day I learned he'd died, I rushed down to Olympia to be with my mom, and to try and react. I am still reacting, because it's such a huge thing to wrap my head around. I think it's bigger than me, bigger than any real, literal thing I could ever encounter. Mom and dad are the architects of me, and I am the center of my own universe (as we all are), so in a sort of indirect way, my parents are gods.

I had a dream once, years ago, that my parents lived in a home built in a cave that was beneath a desert. During the day, my dad was the sun, and he made the day and lived above the desert. When the sun set, he came down and went down into the cave and took off this ritualistic mask he wore as the sun, and hugged my mom and hung out with her. Then, she put on her own god mask, and went up into the sky as the moon. She made the night, and watched over the desert while the nocturnal animals came out. It was a really spiritual dream... like something from Carlos Casteneda, and it affected me a lot, for a long time.

When I was trying to get a hold of what I was feeling, sitting there with mom, I thought of that dream, and realized how completely central to me they both are, and how I hope he feels how directly connected to him I have been, and remain.

...

Mom and I took a walk that evening, and in the road near their house (her house) I spotted a little lizard.



Somehow, it seemed like a good omen.