Mrs. tVM and I have the granddaughters — 2 and 5 — here this week until Saturday.
This afternoon, young Xylia, 5-years-old said, “Dziadek — she calls me ‘Dziadek’ which is Grandfather in Polish — I think there is a hummingbird in the pool.” Sure enough, the gentle soul floated lifelessly on the surface.
I took him out with the leaf bag and placed his lifeless body outside the fence beneath a Palo Verde tree. “Is he dead?” Xylia asked.
“I don’t know,” I responded, “but I think he is.”
“What is Grandma’s mother’s name?” the child asked.
“Rosemary. Your Grandmother’s mother’s name was Rosemary,” I replied. Rosemary would have been 100-years old this very month this year. She passed in 1999.
“I think the hummingbird’s name was Rosemary,” Xylia responded. “Yes,” she said, “The hummingbird’s name was Rosemary.”
This child never ceases to amaze me. We see each other once a month or so, and we always greet each other with “Namaste,” ‘I salute the God within you.’ I sensed it was time to move on to the next level.
“Xylia,” I said with a smile, “Mitakuye Oyasin. We are all related. We are all a part of creation…. This is how the Sioux Indian greeted each other, Mitakuye Oyasin.”
The child opened her arms and repeated, “Mitakuye Oyasin.”