Im the story teller the soothsayer I hold in my very DNA all the stories and all of my children will tell them eventually. I have to tell you I wasn’t thinking of having children until I realized that many of them so many of them were around. Trying to be born and by non other than me. I felt that it was me who chose Satori but I soon found it was them who had worked their little magic into this equation. Picking him out for them it was in his blood and they wanted that to be apart of their own story.
Zachari, I found his name in my thoughts one day not too long before he was born. The last month actually all of that time I had taken the pleasure of sifting through aunti’s and old family names searching for a name but none of them felt right. And then Zachari came along. I knew what it meant and a few days later he was born. Zachari, God remembers.
Sure enough I told him the stories I remembered and let me tell you there was so many stories I remembered I had gotten them all over the world in my travels. Well, I hadn’t been all over the world but you could say I have done my share of traveling. Traveling and telling the people I met the stories that I had collected along the way. I even started to dress the part. A soothsayer of tall and fairy tales.
When I met Satori his eyes was present, too present some would say. Fully in his body is more like it. Light so strong I seemed to wince when he touched me. A man out and about and inside his own mind seemed like he could gobble up every thing else. He was familiar and I took to him like I would take to a brother I had grown up with although I hadn’t done such a thing. It was easy and sweet like god’s blessings. I imagine I called out for someone like him and he answered the ad I didn’t write. Cause certainly some other hand wrote a love like this.
The first day he asked me to tell him a story and every day after I could conjure up one. You know stories have a mind of their own. Maybe it was my stories that had brought him to me. I realized this majic one day when I was a kid growing up in texas. My cat Ara taught me about stories.
One day she had gone walking off her collar sat still on the couch and my heart raced wondering if I would have her back with me by nightfall. I couldn’t search for her at night. There was no way to sneek out of my mothers house. The ghetto houses loves burglarbars and I hadn’t mastered how to take them off yet. Well my friends and I sat on the porch wondering where she had gone thinking we’d better go looking and yelling and that’s when my little cousin comes up crying he wanted Ara back I didn’t like to see babies cry couldn’t quiet stomach an upset child so I told him she was in the backyard, elaborately. I told him she was on the back porch laying in the sun and I told him some of her secret powers. That she came to me and my dreams and that’s how I could know where she was with out looking at her. I was a gifted ellaborater. he believed my every word and when he jumped up from the front porch to run to the backyard there was Ara exactly where I said she would be swinging her tail in the air. Licking her paws as I described. At first my heart went racing again but then I thought to try that again. Could Ara have been back there as I described it because of my own words. Surely that’s what I was feeling.
While I was traveling I told many stories many of them of how good the food was, how nice the animals of the forests were, how sweet the weather was, how still the rain was and so on and so on. Till one day in Pierce, California I told the story of a man who could command the elements only to find him staring back at me in a loud room of music.
I could tell he was different I could since it, smell it off of him. Something about his confidence lead me to believe this. And when I touched him I felt I was holding a secret that would not be retold in my stories to anyone. I became the keeper of his secret. And his body was certainly a house of secrets. These secrets lived inside of him and I was only the mistress of the house.