They say that there once was a prospector wandering through the Yukon with his two dogs, searching for gold. One evening as it neared
dusk, he found himself mired down in the muskeg - boggy country with water just underneath the surface of the semi-frozen ground and
just above the permafrost. It was a treacherous place, and would be very easy to sink beneath the surface and be engulfed. The more
the prospector and his dogs tried to free themselves from its clutches, the more lost they became.
Finally, the prospector found a
firm spot on a small hill. There were a few scraggly trees on the elevation, and he made a small fire and cooked up a bit of soup
for himself and his canine companions. As the stars came out overhead, the man tried to find a comfortable place to sleep, knowing
that in the morning, he and the dogs would once again face the quagmire.
At last, the prospector fell into an uneasy sleep. As he
slept, he dreamt that a fierce native warrior was standing over him, threatening him with a spear.
"Why have you invaded this sacred
ground?" the warrior demanded. "Leave at once or I will kill you!"
"I am lost in the muskeg," the prospector said in his dream. "Show me the way out, and I will gladly leave."
The warrior frowned down
at him. "I am the protector of this place, and cannot forsake it. But I will summon a guide for you."
The warrior raised his arms
toward the sky and called something in a tongue the prospector could not understand. Then he vanished.
The prospector was awakened
by the sudden growling of his dogs. Sitting up, he beheld the glowing figure of a beautiful Native American woman standing at the
bottom of the hill. He blinked in amazement, and felt chills run all over his body. The woman beckoned to him, and to his surprise,
his dogs ceased their growling and ran up to her. They pranced around her like pups, and he felt his fear fade away.
Packing up his
gear, the prospector made his way down the darkened hillock to the treacherous muskeg that surrounded it. The glowing woman smiled
at him. She raised her arms in the same gesture used by the warrior in his dream, and transformed into a beautiful snow-white hare.
The glowing hare hopped slowly ahead of the prospector, leading him eastward. The prospector followed it closely, deviating neither
left nor right from its path. The dogs followed him eagerly and showed no interest in chasing the hare.
For several hours, the prospector
and his dogs followed the glowing animal through the treacherous twists and turns of the quagmire. Just before dawn, they reached
solid ground. The prospector looked around and knew where he was.
Ahead of him, the white hare became once more the beautiful, glowing
figure of a woman. The dogs danced up to her, and she patted them on the head. Then she offered the prospector a sweet smile and vanished
as the first rays of the sun pierced the horizon.
I'm All Right
retold by
S. E. Schlosser
We knew right from the start that Johnny was going to be a soldier. Even as a child, all
his concentration was on the military. So we weren't surprised when he joined the Marines right out of high school.
Johnny excelled
in his chosen career. He was so happy to be serving his country. I could see it in his face every time he came home on leave. He was
itching to get into some "real action", something that - as a mother - frightened me. He was my only son, and I didn't want to lose
him. But he was also a grown man with a wife and a baby on the way. I was very proud of the way he was living his life.
Then came
the terrible day in September when everything in our world changed. I knew as soon as I saw events unfolding on the television that
Johnny was going to get the action he craved. And I started praying: "Please God, keep him safe."
Johnny went to the Middle East and
I started sending weekly care packages and checking my email several times a day. The tone of his communications was always cheerful,
if a little strained. He was in danger many times, but somehow he always made it through unscathed, although he lost a few friends
along the way. This deepened him and I saw a new maturity in my son that made an already proud mother even prouder.
My relief was
intense when Johnny came home. I ran to him and almost knocked him over in my excitement when he stepped out of the car. He hugged
me tightly, and then reached into the backseat to remove his little daughter from her car seat and show her off to us.
I tried to conceal my fear when he told us a few months later that he would be going back to the Middle East. But Johnny knew
me pretty well. On his last leave before deployment, he took my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and said: "I love you, Mom. We'll be
together again real soon." I held back the tears until he was gone. Then I wept like a child.
Johnny's emails on this trip were sporadic
and his tone was grim. Things were tough over there, although he did not say much about it. He just spoke of little things like the
rapid growth of his beautiful girl and the many activities of the wonderful woman who was her mother and his wife.
One night, late
in August, I awoke from a deep sleep, certain that I had heard Johnny's voice.
"Mom," Johnny said again.
I turned over and blinked
in the dim light coming from the streetlamp outside our window. Johnny was standing beside the bed, gazing down on me tenderly. I
sat up immediately.
"Johnny," I gasped.
He smiled and sat down beside me, as he had often done when he was little. He took my hand
and said: "I want you to know how much I appreciate you and Dad. It couldn't have been easy, raising a head-strong boy like me, but
you did a wonderful job."
Johnny's words filled me with a great joy and a terrible fear. Tears sprang to my eyes. He gently wiped one away with his finger.
"I came to tell you that I am all right. Take care of my girls for me."
"We will," I managed to say, realizing at last what this visit
meant.
"I love you, Mom. We'll be together again real soon," Johnny said. He leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek, and then he was
gone.
I fell back against the pillows, too stunned even to weep. My husband, who was a heavy sleeper, woke when he felt the bed jerk.
He rolled over and mumbled: "Are you all right?"
"Something has happened to Johnny," I said, too grief-stricken to be tactful. "I
think he's dead."
My husband jerked awake. "What?!" he exclaimed fearfully.
I started sobbing then, and told him about Johnny's visit.
We held each other close for the rest of that long night, waiting for dawn and the news which would surely come with it.
The days
following the official notification of Johnny's death -- killed in action in the Middle East -- were mind-numbing. I clung to the
words my boy had spoken to me in the moments right after he died. Johnny had said he was all right, and I believed him. My son's body
was gone, but his essence, his soul, everything that made him my Johnny was safe and well. And we would be together again real soon.
