Stories for Dinner

Round the feast day table, we say Grace and Talk Story,

sharing turkey, potatoes, cranberries, casseroles.

I hear tell of a Blackfoot great-grandfather, son of a minister.

He carves animals from wood with his pocketknife.

I hear tell of a Muscogee great-granddad, boarding-school captive,

how he flew over the Pacific to defend our homeland.

I hear tell of his big sister, raised in that same school,

owned a grocery, spoke English, Spanish, and Mvskoke.

I hear tell of her nephew, who patched war wounds in the jungle,

stomp danced in a circle, steered eighteen-wheelers down highways.

I hear tell of his sister, my grandma, who cooked this dinner.

Marched for Water Protectors. Wears a “Native Pride” T-shirt.

I hear tell of her daughter, my mama, who studied nursing.

She and my architect daddy fell in love junior year at college.

I hear tell of everyday heroes. Some passed on, others right here.

How they prayed and planned for future generations, for me.

Here come the pecan pies, fresh and warm from the oven,

with laughter, love, gratitude, sweet iced cream.

Here come more stories, ones I’ll retell someday

around another feast-day table of faith, food, friends, and family.