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I’m An Indian Boy

Indian BoyI had a dream. I am at home visiting family for the holidays. My cousin Dieanna is there who I haven’t seen in years. We step out onto the porch late at night. I can see the moon lit sky and the bare tree branches. She offers me a Juanita bud, sparks the flame to light and passes it to me. She doesn’t know that I don’t smoke. I feel I shouldn’t reject her offering so I take it and pretend to inhale. As I exhale, the cool damp night creates the faux smoke.

We then go back inside. I’m worried that some of the smoke might have made it past my own barriers. I quickly make my way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the vanity it occurs to me that I’ve never seen my face in the mirror. I then have a second awakening. I must be dreaming. In anticipation of what I’m about to see, I slowly lift my eyes and glance into the mirror. I can see my face clearly. I am an Indian boy with dark almond skin around the age of 17. My hair is thick jet black. My eyes lids have a subtle shade of blue. I comb through my hair with my fingers and reveal a thin red bandana across my forehead that was hidden underneath my hair. I look deeply into my eyes taking fingers as I caress my eyelids removing some of the blue shade. I’m an Indian Boy.

I turn around and leave the restroom. My cousin is waiting for me with a peace offering. She hands me a croissant and says, Eat!