Max returned home, He hung his coat with care on the rack and tossed his hat on the hook by the door. He sat heavily in his favourite spot with a view across the county he called home. His mind a turmoil of feelings, thoughts, and dreams yet had. He opens his worn journal. A single word across the textured leather cover, “Amber”.
Journal — 23 June 1901 #
Dearest,
Do you remember the journey I set on when we were courting? Back when first desired to marry you, I had to undertake the trials as decided by the Haudenosaunee elders. That journey would have eventually, as you know, had me to be become part of the tribe. I still find myself thinking fondly of those days and the trials I had undertaken back then, and the bonds that I was forming. Of course, all that changed when I lost you.
I may have mentioned in a previous entry that I had been approached by a group. This group appealed greatly to my ideals, and I expressed interest in joining. A few days ago, I spoke with Tilly, Chief of the Suwanee Tribe, about performing a trial that was requested to help prepare me to walk this path.
Tilly met me at the house a few days ago. It was the first time I spoke to someone in such detail about us. About that night, and what happened after. It was deeply emotional, I saw you standing in front of me as I recounted those days. I spoke your name out loud, I confessed my failures in losing you. My regrets. My anger.
Tilly did something surprising. He opened up to me. As it turns out, we share a similar past in that way. He felt loss in the same way. He blamed himself for that loss. The difference was with you, I could never bring you home. I could never lay you to rest and never get that closure.
Something happened in that conversation. A crack formed in the wall that I had built around my pain. The chains that bound my heart loosened, and I started to feel free for the first time in years.
We performed a simple ceremony and I carved our initials into a tree by the house and a raven’s head pointed east. I know how much you loved ravens, I felt that was meaningful, and the head pointing east pointed at the sunrise we witness from our home. There was much meaning in these actions and the symbols chosen, as Tilly described.
These actions, and the meaning behind them, further seemed to loosen and unbind the chains. And I confess that I felt good. More so than I had before.
Today, was a continuation of that experience. Tilly and Pontiac from the Suwanee met me in Blackwater. We travelled to the great train bridge and Tilly explained his trial to me. I was to jump from the centre span of the bridge into the waters below. I was assured that if I jumped in a specific location, I would not be hurt.
This trail was meant to not be a trial of courage, or bravery. It was, I suppose, to mark a chapter. To signify my jump into the unknown and the emergence of myself from my grief and pain.
As he explained this to me, I felt a sense of clarity. A sense of purpose and I knew what I had to do. I stepped to the edge and prepared to jump. Both Tilly and Pontiac stood there with me. Side by side.
All three of us jumped into the unknown, and I emerged anew.
Max closes the journal and sets it carefully on the bookshelf. His hands feel the contours of the cover of the journal, pausing on each letter of her name. He looks toward the unused journal that rests quietly on the shelf and thinks carefully before turning and going about his business.