smiles with her eyes

another video is in the works. this one requires me to look through pictures of my own. along with my journals, i record life pictorially in the seven photo albums at my feet. [perhaps this is an unaddressed obsession] i rarely take the time those images deserve to reminisce. pictures capture an instant, an event, regardless of their worth. but hindsight tells us they alwyas are. i laugh at some of my outfits/hair styles from high school already [i didn't think that was supposed to happen for at least five more years] soccer games and sleep-overs, trips and birthdays; all framed within the 4x6 boundary. pictures represent moments, but they can only awaken memories and feelings for those who were there. to anyone else, they do not hold the same value.



these three pictures are extremely valuable to me. they represent three separate and unique lives on the dennehotso navajo reservation.
each girl, a different journey, a different story.

i met lorena on my first trip to the reservation as a 15 year old. she came from a broken home with her brother, nolan. when nolan smiled, you smiled too because he was missing his front four teeth after being kicked by a horse. most other kids played at home all day by themselves in the absence of their parents, but lorana and nolan insisted on spending the day at the church while their mother looked for work. we liked having them there. lorena was slow to trust, but once she did, she didn't let you out of her sight. i am the same; we bonded.

asha was in my group both years i visited. i tried not to pick favorites, but if i did, asha was mine. i found ways to spend extra time with her or steal her always-ready hugs. she gave me her beloved doll before i left and refused let me give it back. today, she has entered high school. i wonder if she'd still be my favorite and if she thinks of me as i do of her.

georgina was the youngest of 5 girls. i think her parents dreamed of life outside of the arizona reservation as each child was named georgia, georginana, etc. she acted the toughest of them all, but her heart was soft. she let me see that side of her. she pretended she didn't like to be hugged, but i knew she craved being held.

these pictures remind me of how i love this indian culture. life is slow and works without schedule. the people are so hungry for hope and purpose, seeing so little in their desolate surroundings/situations. some of them still spoke navajo, but much of their heritage is being lost with each generation.

one night, we sat around and gave each other indian names. you know, like dances with wolves and old stab [legends of the fall] if i had an indian name, it would be smiles with her eyes. when something makes me happy, you can see it in my toothy grin as well as in my eyes; they get all squinty. sometimes my eyes get lost completely, no matter how hard i try to keep them open. it's genetic, the sornson in me.
i like having smiling eyes, though.
you needn't have been there to know how i felt.