Thank you, as always to Rochelle for providing us with Friday Fictioneers.
My grandfather would have laughed at Adirondack chairs on his reservation, but he would have sat alongside me gazing at constellations wishing for better for his people. Our people.
It’s because of him I attended college, improved my life, returned to teach, fell in love, got married, and now sit, gazing at meteorite showers while my once love sleeps off whiskey.
I see my grandfather in my son as he gazes upward, my daily hope my son embodies his grandfather.
“Are there people out there?”
“Maybe,” I answer.
I don’t say: our history hasn’t been good.
12 thoughts on “Crossroads”
Great last line
I loved the way this story unfolded. Such a poignant, understated last line.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
I enjoyed your multilayered story. Her life has come full circle. That last line says it all. Well done.
I went a similar route with mine, but yours is more elegant.
Beautifully done, Sascha. Too bad her once love turned out to be a stereotype. Let us hope she can direct her son on a better path.
Thanks, Dale. Unfortunately the stereotype is real. Alcoholism on reservations is an extreme problem, very sad, and not a lot of help is out there. Native Americans do not have the tolerance that other races have adapted over centuries. And particularly in the current administration there are not a lot of resources.
Regarding this story, I do believe her son will be a seeker of knowledge.
It really is, I know. I have Inuit friends and the problem is prevalent.
As the writer of his story, I am sure you will make sure he will be 😉
Warm and intimate and sad and wistful too. Lovely writing, Sascha
Nicely done. Hopefully there are more nice people out there than bad…
We can hope! Thanks, Iain.
like they say, we can’t change the past but we can rewrite the future.
So very true. Thank you so much for reading, Plaridel.