The Family Tree
The gravel path was well worn and showed many signs of use over the ages. He walked softly not even stirring the fallen leaves as he passed one of his favorite trees he loved so much. He remembered as a child coming here and trying to climb that majestic old brown bark. His fingers, sore he tried time and again then rested for a while and tried again six or seven times. He almost knew he could make it if he tried hard enough and long enough. His grandfather told him: Never give up the things you your self know you can do. Finally by the 10th summer he rejoiced. He�d made it. His grandfather now gone he looked upwards and smiled a large smile and thanked him for helping him in his goal. He knew his grandfather watched him everyday as he attempted the climb all these years and just because he left the village one dark stormy night didn�t mean he�d stopped watching.
Omachee once a strong warrior now settled to smaller but still important deeds he�d set for himself. This was just one of those tasks he�d chosen. He sat down at the base of a tree just yards from the mighty oak with its shiny bark from many small braves over the years toiling in futile efforts to scale its vertical form. He vividly remembered watching over the years others in their small agile forms desperately struggle time and again as well as himself did in years past. His own son had mastered it one year sooner than he had accomplished the feat of strength and power. That old tree had put more muscle and sinew on the braves of the village than all the other chores and jobs they�d ever done. Soon an old man approached out of the dark shadows and sat next to him. his tired eyes never blinking just stared at the old tree. After a while they heard a small noise in the distance down the path. The small child had stepped on a dry twig and when he heard it snap he cursed himself in the dark for being so careless. He felt it under his foot but it was too late to stop its crack. He knew why also. He�d been in more of a hurry to get to the tree than watch his step and had his father been around he�d have scolded him. A mans life depended on silent steps soft enough to walk and feel a robins egg without breaking it. The small form appeared out of the darkened path quietly now. he�d not made that mistake again and surprised the two as he appeared before them. He looked around and smiled then spit in his hands and rubbed them together. Hooking three fingers in the rough bark he lifted one foot and placed the soft moccasin in a small wedge. Then slowly pulled and pushed upwards reaching out for the next hold. Heart beating wildly pounding in his small chest the young brave stepped again. The UMPH could be heard loud as he hit the ground flailing his arms trying to right his falling form. His attempt at flying failed as he landed on the ground with a thud momentarily knocking the breath from him. Omache felt a withered hand on his arm holding him back as he attempted to go to the child�s aid. Catching his breath he propped himself back and stared up at the limb he almost had in his grasp. He thought he now knew why he�d failed. He�d lunged for the limb instead of reaching or taking one more step because this was the closest he�d ever come that high before.
The audience now larger watched as the boy again scaled the tree. Each one had clenched fists as if helping the boy get a better grip. The boy, dirt on his back and his breaches dirty struggled again. He knew this was his last try as he was trembling and exhausted now. Slowly and methodically he inched up. Every breath harsh as he strained. His legs now trembling and shaking barely held him up. Then he felt it. His fingertips touched bark away from the tree. He knew it was in his reach. Just another few inches and he had it. Fingers now crawling he pressed them harder against the outstretched limb. Then he felt it. The arc of the rounded limb was curving back inward. He was over halfway there now. then it happened. He felt himself slowly losing his grip. He was pushing himself away by pressing his fingers so hard. The impact already in his memory he braced and every muscle waited for the blow. It was over. He lay almost crying on the cool ground. He pounded the hard earth with his fists over and over. The crowd slowly rose and a small tear formed on every face. 7 aged warriors stood and took a final glimpse at the sprawled youth beating the ground. Yes seven warriors. The tree was over 800 years old and all of them at one time had attempted and failed over the years until they finally succeeded. All but one. A small dark form still stood with tears running down his face as his hands clenched his sides. He�d never made it to the limb. He�d gotten sick one winter and after several weeks met the spirits. The others knew his heartache and left him to mend his broken memories. The forms turned to opaque mist like clouds then whiffed away leaving two young men to comfort each others thoughts. The small ghostly form was an uncle but still came every night to watch the young lad struggle along with all the grandfather ancestors each a father to one of the others. His was a brother rising away now among the elders. But he�d be back again tomorrow night and the next and for the next hundred years or until there were no more grandsons or sons to watch climb the majestic grandfather tree.
Vision Quest
� 2002 Tommy Lovett |
