Thunder from the Skies
Chapter 1Here I was, taping up the last of my boxes, this one labeled photos and decorations. I didn't know what our new house would be like but my dad assured me that we would all love it. I wouldn't say I was nervous. Just sad to be leaving my friends and the city I loved.
We lived in a suburb in Dallas. It was called Grapevine. During the springtime months and most of the summer it was lush and green. Sometimes in the winter we would get snow but most often it was just hot. We lived on a lake in a decently sized house. There was nothing I loved more than Texas. Although I'm sure you could ask any Texan and they would agree. The city was so diverse I felt like I was constantly running into new things. I had good friends here and family close by; it was really going to be quite a change moving.
My dad was a doctor and my mom had her own boutique store. They were hardworking individuals, no doubt because of their difficult childhoods. They both lived on reservations when they were young and watched how difficult it was for their families to make a living. That's why we lived in north Texas, it was close to the Cherokee tribe in Southern Oklahoma. Many of our family members were there, but by being in the city my parents could flourish in their careers.
As I glanced in the bathroom mirror I'm reminded of how many people told me I looked like my mother but I felt that I was more like my father. I had golden brown skin, a year-round suntan as my jealous friends would say. I wasn't as dark as my father's russet skin or my brother's, but I wasn't as light as my mother. Although, I did have her dark brown wavy hair and deep blue eyes. They were the color of the blue sky when the sun had almost set. It was odd for a Native American to have wavy hair and blue eyes but my mom always explained that somewhere down the line she had Irish in her and it had stuck.
I wouldn't say I was plain but many people told me that I looked otherworldly. I never thought I looked extraordinary but I didn't look like the people I knew my age. That had lured in many jerks during my high school experience. All they liked of me was my body and once they found I wasn't going to "put out" like they asked they would up and leave. After a while my heart no longer broke. All I expected from young men my age was stupidity. That is, except for my brother.
His name was Ouray but we called him Ray. His name meant arrow and somehow it related to his personality. It fit his strength and never ending passion. But we also would say that it fit his anger: quick to flare like an arrow leaving its bow. But he wasn't really an angry person. He had a kind heart and a sweet soul.
"Kia, can I borrow the duct tape?" Ray ask me from the doorway, a sad expression on his face.
"Sure thing." I said, tossing the tape his way.
Oh yeah, Kia, it was short for Kiana – a name somewhat translated to 'of the sky' but I wasn't sure how it related to me. My mom would say it was because she thought I was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen when I was born so I must have been sent from the heavens. My parents' names were Bradley, well Brad, and Samantha Rivers. If you're wondering why we had more native names it was because our grandparents wanted our parents to fit in more with the changing culture. They knew that they would have to branch out of the reservation life if they wanted to live comfortably. But mom and dad didn't want us to lose our culture so they gave us names that would always remind us of that. I didn't mind, I loved our culture. It made us different. It was rooted in such a rich history and way of life and it would kill me to see that slip away just because the times were changing. My dad was Quileute mixed with Cherokee. He had family up in Washington State and that's where we were headed. We hadn't made a trip up there since I was probably 11. I was 17 now. So you could say it had been a while…
Ray hated the fact that we were moving, and he hated our culture too. He was always so embarrassed of his name, that's why he went by his nickname. He was annoyed with our trips to the reservation every other week when we would go take part in the tribal ceremonies and visit with our family. I think he felt trapped in a life he didn't choose, one that he didn't take the time to fully understand. What do I know though, he was a teenage boy, 16 at that. His prime angst and temper flaring years. He for sure got his temper from my dad. You wouldn't know it now by his sweet disposition but mom always told us stories of his "spirited" nature. The word she could say without dad glaring at her. It always made me laugh.
Ouray and I were best friends. He was only a year younger than me and you would think that would mean we were always at each other's throats. But we really understood each other. I could always go to him with anything. Although he was technically younger, I always felt like he was wiser beyond his years. He got his looks from my dad. His russet skin, strong jaw and brow. He had dark hair that was shaggy around his face. I had tried to convince him to keep it shorter but alas, the teenage rage would kick in and I would be met with a resounding no. Secretly, I thought he wanted to keep it longer to look like Johnny Depp. I mean if you could rock it like Johnny, why not try!
So back to why I was packing. We were moving to Washington State because my dad's cousin, Harry had recently passed away from a heart attack. He was devastated. They were extremely close, spoke to each other at least a few times a week on the phone. We were close with Harry's family as well, they were blood after all. Thankfully we were going to move close to Sue, Harry's wife and my aunt, to help her through the hardship that was sure to follow after Harry's death. We had made trips often when we were young although I don't remember much other than my cousins Leah and Seth. That was one of the reasons I couldn't be too sad, at least we had family we could be with and not have to start over brand new. Leah and I were always close when we were young but we had lost touch in the last several years. The same went with Seth. Ray and I were excited to reconnect with them, hoping that we would all still get along.
I began lugging my boxes to the stairs but I didn't know how they were going to make it down.
"I'll take your boxes if you fold my clothes" Ray said as he snatched up my two boxes with ease.
"As long as they're clean" I said after him. I could barely hear him grumble to himself "okay, mom…" as he walked down. I laughed and went to his room.
It would have been a mess on any normal day but I had a feeling that his mess was contained in the boxes sitting at the bottom of the stairs. All that was left was clothes. His room felt eerie being so empty. The whole house did. We had lived here for a good decade and it was all I remembered. Out Ray's window I could see the sun shining out on the lake in the bright morning light. How could Washington beat this?
"Help us pack the car Kiana!" I heard my mom shout up the stairs. Ray's boxes were finished, the house was packed up and we were off within a few hours tugging a U-Haul behind our Suburban. This was it. This was goodbye. And a hopeful hello to good things to come.