Faith Kaufhold Ray: To One Who Is My Tribe

Wednesday, September 25, 2024

To One Who Is My Tribe

To One Who is My Tribe

I am sitting in the back seat of a slime green Corvair, with Sonny in the front passenger seat and you driving. There is a hole in the floor board as big as a grapefruit, and occasionally out of curiosity I lift the mat and watch the asphalt scrolling by.

It's morning

We are going to school and we are singing...

"We all live in a little green turtle, a little green turtle, a little green turtle" to the tune of Yellow Submarine.

There is no heat in the turtle, Sonny has scraped ice off the windshield with a piece of plastic. You have to keep the window down because the fog keeps reforming as you wipe a hole in it so you can see, still singing.

We don't care. Somehow it always just feels like a fun adventure.....we crack jokes and laugh at ourselves and that silly car.

Breakfast was an Instant Breakfast milkshake we made fixed in a dirty kitchen.

I don't care about that either. That is just how it is at home, and if you don't care then I don't care.....

Our driving is the best time of my day...

Your brown hair is thick; falling in soft curls over the headrest. Earlier in the morning, I sat and watched you at home, methodically taking orange juice can rollers out of your hair and putting on makeup. As each would unroll, a golden brown curl would fall down and you would fluff it, rat it and pin it into a beautiful mane.

I don't remember what happens next, but most likely you dropped me at Starkey before taking the two of you on to school. I just remember laughter and singing and jokes and love.

The three of us start our day, and I carry a little bit of your confidence and surliness with me into class. I know I belong there with you and Sonny.

I know you are my tribe.

I came on the scene later in our family. I missed your early years but the stories were always being told and I knew from very young that you were the glue, the rock, the one who could both hold things together and also keep the light of hope on for your brother and sisters.

And so this is who you were to me. Almost 60 years later with grey hair and a few wrinkles added to the mix, essentially the principles remain unchanged.