Romancing Phyllis-02 story is Page 2 of 10. It's my story about how I learned of my parents young years of Romancing.

I'm on my return trip home from my annual pilgrimage to sacred Eagle-Ghost Sun-dance ceremony. I usually stop at Mom's for a meal and a visit when I leave and again when I return.

My parents are well past retirement age when they share their Romancing to Love story with me. And bringing romancing Phyllis-02, into the light of day wasn't on my radar, nor theirs neither.

I'm grateful they shared their story about how they got together. Hearing their true Love story gave me spiritual and emotional healing.

I hope you enjoy romancing Phyllis-02.

By Tsa-me-gahl
X’aisla Rainforest, Kitamaat, Canada,
Turtle Island, Mother Earth, Milky Way

Continued from Romancing Phyllis 01

“I’ll cook up something for you. Do you want a steak?” she asks.

“Yii! No thanks! Remember I don’t eat farm animals! I want our own food! Maybe half-smoked salmon or salted bellies. That sounds excellent!”

“Oh, sorry dear. I forgot. Alright then. Baked potatoes?” she asks.

“Yum! That’s sounds perfect!”

“Alright then, we’re set. Call again from Gitwanga. I’ll have everything ready,” she says.

“Ok. I’ll do that.”

“Bye dear. Drive safe,” she says.

“Don’t worry Mom. Tell Dad I said ‘Hi' I’ll see you both when I get there,” I hang up. The shop owner waits patiently and I nod my head to him and say, "Thanks for using your phone."

“No problem! I need your status card please. I filled up your bug juice. I checked your motor oil and put in one liter. Your transmission oil is good. Your air in you tires are good and your tires are too. You’re good to go,” he says as he wipes his hands on a big blue cloth.

“Thanks for checking everything out,” I say with a grateful smile as I take my Status card out of my shirt breast pocket and hand it across the counter. He writes the numbers on a long government form and returns it to me. Then, he rings up my bill and I hand him my bank card.

“Coming back from ceremony?” he asks as he swipes my bank card.

“Yup! North Dakota,” I say with a smile as I punch in my card's 'Pin' number. Quickly, it's approved.

“That’s a long drive!” he says as he hands me the receipt.

“Yeah. It's five days and four nights of driving. I go every year.”

“Uh-huh! I remember you. Well, see you next time,” he says smiling.

“Thanks,” I smile back and walk to the door. I get into my truck and drive to the edge of the gravel driveway to wait for highway traffic to pass.

Four flat-deck B-trains are lined up after each other. Dead trees are stacked high and strapped down.

I say a prayer for the 'Beings that stand all the time,' as mountains of trees are referred to in our X'aisla culture, except of course, they're usually thriving.

I pull onto the highway behind them, a funereal procession.

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