Monday, Jun. 20, 2005 @ 7:35 pm
Saturday night: family is over for dinner.
We 20-somethings wait on the deck, away from the kids and the adults. In this moment I feel connected and accepted by Tim's sister. Tamara compliments the shirt that he picked out for me. He shrugs and smiles proudly. Somebody says how and Tim jumps into his pow-wow crouch and hops from one foot to another chanting pretend Cree songs. I'm half-chug, I'm allowed to mock us.
Spaghetti is ready. We line up in the kitchen with paper plates; tiny blue flowers wreath around the fat beige noodles and runny red sauce. Everyone sits down before Tim and I leave the kitchen. I hear the kids in the dining room, the usual dinnertime fuss. You go in the living room and I'll go sit in the dining room. What? No, why can't I eat with you? Women eat separate from the men in Native culture. The men take care of the children at meal time. Oh. Matriarchal my mind revels in wonder.
On the west flank of Seymour the orchids flourish. This time it feels more like an ending than a beginning. I feel as though I'm about to jump/trip into the deep dark pool of singledom...