My House-My Place<\/p>\n
February 5th: I walk into my place. The one that I trust has been lying
\nto me. Dinner is burning away in the oven. He is lounging on his sofa
\nenjoying a bowl of Goodness knows what.<\/p>\n
Friday: My Friends and I clean everything. Cobwebs thick with grease
\nand dust–even the poor spider is mummified in a cocktail of wood
\nsmoke and greasy meals.<\/p>\n
Eight truckloads of junk later…<\/p>\n
The roof and tarps fall in and blow playfully towards the ocean; free as
\na ship loose from its moorings.<\/p>\n
The ceilings in the bedrooms crumble. I am upset. I just mopped those
\nfloors. Now it holds a memory of the ceiling.<\/p>\n
The wiring begins to pop. The breakers groan. The furnace comes to
\nlife at 2:00 in the silly morning. I watch the sparks fly; as shooting
\nstars in the grey morning light.<\/p>\n
By now my Friends are running for cover. Smiles replaced with
\nconcerned frowns.<\/p>\n
The shed door falls off. Someone forgot to prop it up with the stump.<\/p>\n
The fridge holds a promise of neglected leftovers. \u201cSniff it! If it
\nsmells good, eat it.\u201d<\/p>\n
No fresh yummy cookies.<\/p>\n
No Roast Beast on Sunday.<\/p>\n
Chewy Pizza.<\/p>\n
Oven won\u2019t work now.<\/p>\n
Seven people worked on the hot water tank. It worked for three days.
\nMonday the main pipes cracked in the cold. It was like a sauna.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am so cold! Do you think more blankets around the doors and
\nwindows might help?\u201d<\/p>\n
(I am asking my Brother)<\/p>\n
\u201cNo! Get some leftover Tribal Campaign signs-plywood. Nail \u2018em up.
\nThen you can use your Rez curtains on your bed.\u201d So he laughs\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about the ceilings? It\u2019s all messy on the floor.\u201d<\/p>\n
(I am asking again)<\/p>\n
\u201cSweep it up! Throw it in the woodstove. You said you were cold.\u201d And
\nhe laughs harder.<\/p>\n
And\u2026\u201dDo you think I should try to stay here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy? Waiting for the other door to fall?\u201d<\/p>\n
(Where\u2019s Jack?)<\/p>\n
Everyone laughs now.<\/p>\n
My Place\u2026<\/p>\n
Where\u2019s my motel key?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Cindy Lee Claplanhoo is part of an Indian writing group in Port Angeles called “Blood Quantum.”<\/a> She is from the Makah Reservation, located at the beginning of the United States–Neah Bay. Her given name is Tia–from her Aunt Tan\u2019te. It is Spanish and yes–she is Aunty to fifty-six nieces and nephews and has four beautiful grandbabies too. Cindy works at Makah Forestry and volunteers at MCRC–\u201cThe Museum.\u201d<\/a> \u00a0Her project preserving Coastal Native news articles from 1899 to the Present Day inspires her poetry and artwork. \u00a0\u201cWait for me, Grandpa. I am following in your Footsteps.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My House-My Place February 5th: I walk into my place. The one that I trust has been lying to me. Dinner is burning away in the oven. He is lounging on his sofa enjoying a bowl of Goodness knows what. … Continue reading