Now I hear you do not speak my language so I will speak yours. I am so old now I think I can speak to anyone. With the help maybe of a little glass of something to drink we will do just fine. Now I have heard there are those who think of me as a wise woman. Beiberekan, earth mother and wise crone. Makes me laugh that, it does… How very wise… Now I am tending to 50 cows every night. Milking is tedious. Sometimes I feel that my old cows glare at me wondering what was wrong with our life before. I glare back at them. Then I go about milking the 50 cows every night.
She didn’t talk to me, but she was there, she was my daughter. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was a good life. And I threw it away for 50 cows. I should have gone with her to the wedding.
Now I walk the same path that I walk every day. I stop at the very spot where I first picked up the plant. And the strangest thing happens to me. Because the plant… the Horsetail… there is a plant in the same spot and it’s reaching for the sky, and I am old but I’m not wise. Maybe I am, because I pick it up.
It reminds me of her. I wonder what memory is. Has this happened before? I don’t know. Something is happening to time. Something is happening to time and it’s coming from the earth. A flock of cranes fly above my head. They usually don’t come this far into the forest. They belong to heaven and now they want to speak to me. And as I carry my precious bundle into my tent, I wonder what it all means.
