The bird man, Timothy, came again with the weekly supplies of food. It was near Seventh Month. He helped us lay out the offerings on the floor. Old Earth tradition. Our tradition.
He stayed for dinner, Varra resting next to our garden like the giant pelican she resembled. She preened her wings as we laid out the candles in a straight row. He watched respectfully and said that he celebrated something similar. Samhain. Sow-wen. The word sounded nice coming from him. He didn’t say anything when we burnt paper money in the bin. This close to the desert, we didn’t want to burn the offerings for long. Mama drilled me about fire danger.
Perhaps, dad would visit us tonight.
Timothy talked about Riding. I asked about the animal medical schools. He answered me thoughtfully and told me that there was a large school in the Agri-Seer City. But I needed to grow up first before I could attend the school. I think I liked Timothy.
Then he and Mama sat at the porch and watched the candles flicker in the breeze. This quiet and deep at night, I could hear the desert. It had its special sounds.
Varra’s huge form joined the curves of the nearby hills, surrounded by stars. She flapped her wings and the smoke from the offerings swirled around her.
We waited for dad’s visit.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Singapore License.