Love Notes

There is a story that was told to me by a man .. a man who visited the Tuchuk and was welcomed at the fires for he was and is half Tuchuk. The other half of him is Red Savage .. a Tribe in the far north much different than the Tuchuk in their daily lives but I have found them not to be so different in their beliefs of courage and honor. In fact I made a friend with this man and pledged him my blood if ever it was called upon .. and he did likewise as we shared grass and soil between us.

Now at the time I was not the Ubar .. I was not a commander ... I was not even of the First Fires .... I was just a boy who was proud of his name and his first courage scar. And this man .. respected that .. even though he was a master of many things and his scars read upon his cheeks like a story to prove it. He took the time to value me as a man .. value what I was despite what I may or may not become. He taught me a lot about respect ... and he told me a few stories.

One of these stories .. the one I mentioned before ... is something I have taken into myself as my own. Made it mine. Written it on my heart and on my soul. It is about music .. and about dance. And someday .. I will tell it to another. Someday I will do it with another .. and someday .... I will make the story into my story and I will tell it to my children and my children will pass it down through the years.

So you see .. it is more than mere curiosity that makes me practice that little flute .. it is more than a simple drive that bids me learn to make music. I know the notes .. I know how to teach another to play ... but I have never gotten the soul part of it. The music part. The dance? that was not too hard .. that was the easy part. But the music ... I still struggle with it.

So when I entered my wagon and I found the little note left to me with colored beads and a flute .. I was touched. I could have been offended .. for the thought was there obviously I would not be able to do it smoothly .. without help. But she was right ... and she left it perfectly so that I could read it and understand it. So I sat cross legged in front of the chest and I studied her papa's flute and I studied the outline of notes in beads and I took out that little flute from my vest pocket and I worked it out. I worked at it ... until I worked it out. I have no idea how long I sat there .. I have no idea where T'zuri was .. but I did sit there and I did work it out and when I did ... I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. My gnarled and callused fingers know that little tune by heart now .. and I can play it though it still lacks soul.

But I did not miss the note .. I did not miss the intent and I am pleased she made me a part of it .. so that I could hear it in my own head and know it in my own fingers. I wish I could take away the "miss" in her. I wish I could fix it. I suppose for now it is only for me to experience and be there with her in it. It is not an easy thing for a man to do .. but I will.