ROMANCING PHYLLIS-05

Romancing Phyllis-05 is Page 5 of 10 and continues from Page 4. It's my story of how I learned about my parents youthful Romancing.

We're sitting in Mom's kitchen for a serious feeding frenzy of our traditional foods.








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



Continued from Romancing Phyllis-04


I take two thick slices of half-smoked salmon and smother them in home-made Oolican grease that Mom got from her brother, Jughead. Mom does the same. I pile one side of my plate full of salted fish bellies and smother them too. Mom does the same. We share a smile and dig in. Ahhh...Mother Earth’s Divine gift of cell-building food! We much down in groans of ecstatic satisfaction.

I come up for air, “Ummmm. This is so delicious! This is just what my body screams for!”

“This is fresh smoked! We just brought it in from the smoke shed yesterday! The bellies are only a week old,” Mom says.

“Yum!” I say, “I thank Creator for letting us still have this precious gift of delicious Salmon,” and add, “and I thank you Mom for your hard work. Especially your knowing how to make our healthy foods and for all your teachings from your Ba-ba-Oh (Grandfather) David Shaw.” Her paternal grandfather re-taught her the ways of our people when she got back home after twelve years of mind-and-spirit-numbing residential school.

“Thanks dear. I’m so glad you like it,” Mom says with a big soft happy smile from her heart.

"I love it Mom! I just love it!"

As we finish up, Dad comes in. His head is covered with his favorite woolen grey-green checkered and short-brimmed hat. In one fist he holds used barbeque tools and his other hand holds a serving platter. A thick perfectly-burnt black steak is plunked in the middle of it. He stops at the door looking at me with a big smile. His bottom teeth are out.

“Bett! How was your trip?”

“Hi Dad! Every year my trips to ceremony get better and better,” I say.

He walks to the counter and empties his hands. He takes off his hat to expose his bald head. He walks to the kitchen’s open doorway and stops to spin-throw his hat onto the top shelf of the hallway closet. Then he walks to me. I get out of my chair and we hug. I sit back down.




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