Yama

Her name was Yama. At least that is what I called her. It wasn't a family name or anything carried down through the generations. It was just the best I could do when I tried to say Grandma. As far back as I can remember, I remember her. I don't recall my mother and father, except for the stories told a small child about a trip taken where they never returned. I very vaguely recall a Grandfather, but he too took a trip of no return. There were...and still are...Uncles and Aunts. Some are family by blood, and some by love.

When I was little they called me See, teasing me that it was because I always wanted to see everything. Yama told me I was her favorite Granddaughter. About the time I outgrew the name See, I told Yama...I am your only Granddaughter. The little grin that plagued the corner of her mouth made me giggle and it started a rousing round of laughter we would revisit time and again. It was like a little secret we shared, a heart-warming one that wrapped me up in love when we counted the stars and whispered good night to the moons in the pitch dark.

One day a friend of my Uncle's said I was going to make someone a fine catch someday. Yama and I laughed that night until warm fat tears glossed both our cheeks. There wasn't a man anywhere nearby who could run fast enough to catch me. There wasn't a man anywhere nearby who could even run. There wasn't even a boy within a day's ride. I think that is when Yama began making her plans. Plans that would eventually find me here...stuck...in the middle of nowhere.