Who am I?
by
moon_grace


They were on my grandfather's side.

Calvin Goolsby was my great great grandfather.

Odd name for a Cherokee. I did find some Carolina Goolsby's once on
a Native American census. Little comfort. I look at the photograph of
my great grandmother. She was dark. My grandfather was dark. I look at the photograph
of my Great Aunt Minnie. She was dark.....I am not.
He married a woman from Ireland, Adeline Lane. I have only that
much of their story.

What did they see in each other? What made them turn and embrace
the other? Did she see another warrior, not unlike any proud
Irishman? Did he see a dancer with foreign steps, but dancing all
the same?

My grandmother was born here from parents who came across the
sea-- across the ocean at a time when the dead made a path from
Ireland to America. So many dead. The sharks followed and were rewarded with
the lost ones tossed overboard. They came across and
kept a set of grandparents and a babe alive all the way.

I looked to Ireland. I was told by Irish chatters, "No, you are not
Irish."

I asked in Native American chats. I was told, "No, you are not Native American."

So, I foundered as I wandered.

"No heritage to claim," is what I told myself.

Then one day, I realized. "I am them all.

I am the consummation of a Native American husband and his Irish born wife.

I am the offspring of those who ventured across the sea."

I would only NOT be either if I MYSELF allowed. No more timid. I claimed them with
all the fury and might it took for each to live out decisions made.

I quit asking for validation.

On the wind, I heard faint voices of four saying-

"Grand-daughter...
you are mine,
you are mine,
you are mine,
you are mine........"

moon_grace.


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