Little Things

I have been comparing my travels today, telling Dee of the story of how I came to be here. Several other women had joined us, pushing our way through the thick half bent grass, searching out nuggets of fuel and any other treats we might find. My travels north sounded so dangerous even to my own ears, but I laughed softly, telling the others they were more lonely and austere than anything. It had been cold, sometimes so cold I feared I would not survive, but now the air was invitingly warm and made the walking more comfortable. The company helped, I added with ready assurance. There had been much to see and do with the Carnival Caravan, and the feelings of family and closeness drifted in fleeting glimpses for that short time I was there. Still, I just wasn't comfortable enough to consider staying. Maybe another day and another time, I would seek the anonymity and acceptance of the caravan, but that was not what I looked for then.

Walking north had been cold with spots of heat. Walking south was warmth with dappled shade. Walking north I was chasing dreams within specific pictures. By the time I began my trek south, I was chasing dreams that boundless and could be more than I ever imagined. At the start of my journey, I tasted loneliness and despair, searching every part of my world for a face to welcome me. Now, I searched every part of my world, finding a vast variety of faces that would offer every emotion available, and one face in particular that made my toes wiggle.

I spotted my Brave Warrior today. Off in the distance, at times a mere darker shade in the haze of golden brown dust, His unmistakable presence struck me like hot lightening. I stopped walking just to watch Him. Coaxing and encouraging the movement of beasts with such skill He looked like both He and His kaiila danced the most engaging waltz. I was enthralled, and the girls I was walking with began teasing and cajoling, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. There are special moments, and this was one of them, when we are gifted to observe without muddying up the picture. I stood there, letting the dust coat my face, stinging my eyes until tears rolled down my cheeks, watching Him move so adeptly. I thought surely this is His element. Even from here, I could tell the pleasure and pride that held Him so upright. Enough so that even the slight hitch in His injured shoulder was given not a moment's pause before He stretched into the next movement. Rigorous work that required the strength of a man. I was proud to walk a thousand pasangs and more for Him. Because of Him.

I turned back finally, the smile permanently etched on my face, and stepped square into Dee. I am lucky to have found a woman who understands. Our heads clunked a bit, and we both laughed, Dee muttering something about stars in my eyes. She took hold of my wrist and bid me to come. The excitement in her voice promised that I wouldn't regret it. Dee and the others had found a patch of mint.

I have learned a great respect for treasuring the little things in life. While a supply wagon may burst at the seams with bric a brac and nick nacks, the people of the plains hold simple things in the highest regard. They waste nothing, and use everything to it's fullest potential. Mint is a blessing. Dee said a blessing from the sky. It was a bit trampled, and wet, but the patch was wide and long and wove through the grass here and there. We all scampered and prowled through the marshy grass in search of those tender aromatic leaves. Someone appeared with baskets and buckets and we all took as much as we possibly could fit in receptacles, cloths and hands.

That night, when the wagons would circle and park for rest, my Brave Warrior's wagon would hold the clean fresh scent of washed and scattered mint leaves. There was a thought to make it smell more feminine, but Warrior Fonce wasn't...feminine. The mint would be the bold note, underlying it would be the faint hint of nutty vanilla from a sliver of soap I had found. Tucked inside the eyelet pouch at the end of the beaded path over furs would be a little pouch of mint leaves, and a few toasted nuts. If necessity is the mother of invention, then life on the plains was the mother of inventive giving.