The world floated in my hand.
“Is that the real world Migi?”
“No, Arous,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s what the world is like. It’s a vision of the world.”
“Like your mind-sight?”
“No . . . well, yes, sort of. It is what happened.”
We were in the barn loft leaning into a hill of hay. The light was softening outside. I always loved night in the Bowl. It wasn’t scary, like outside the Bowl, but full of rest. The moon was rising and Arous’ skin began to radiate iridescence. My hand resed on her head. The color of her hair made me think of Priscilla’s, black as a raven, except Arous had straight hair. In glow of the night, Arous’ hair would be the deep blue of midnight.
“What happened, Migi?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know Migi.”
“Of course you do, you’ve heard the story before.”
“Let Edlawit tell.”
“No, it’s your turn. I need to know that you understand.”
“Why Migi? Why you need to know?”
“Because it’s my job, Arous.”
Edlawit was squirming. She was doing pretty good for a four-year-old. I was afraid I wasn’t doing as good keeping my mind still as Edlawit was sitting and I’m a too-many-centuries-to-count-year-old.
“Migi, your hand is the color of maple syrup. The maple syrup the lady brought.”
“Arous.”
“And, Edwi's the color of the buckwheat honey. Sasquatches always bring buckwheat honey for Spring Jub’lee don’t they Miguel. At night mine isn’t silver – what do you call it?”
“Iridescent,” I said, “Arous. Tell me the story.”
“Irdescent,” she sighed. “Migi and the world will change?”
“As you tell it, the world in my hand will change.”
“Okay. Well. The lands were all separate. Well, first they were together but then the Void happened. Kezza – what’s his name, Migi?”
“Quetzalcoatl.”
“His name slammed into the big land and made them all float out in smaller pieces. Contentments.”
“Continents.”
“Then the Void ruptured and scared all the lands back together. Almost together. Now they are almost together. Pageants.”
“Pantaganents.”
“Right, Migi,” she gasped. “Look, Migi! The world in your hands did what I said.”
“I told you.”
“I want to tell it again.”
“Answer one question.”
“Anything for you, Migi,” she said.
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“That’s not a question, Migi.”
“What brings the world the rest of the way together?”
“After right now?”
“Yes, later.”
Arous cocked her head and furrowed her brow. She didn’t know.
“I know, Miguel,” said Edlawit. Her voice was soft and patient now but in about 12 years she’ll turn to fire. “The thirteen.”
“The thirteen what, Migi?” asked Arous.
“Details, details,” I said laughing. “The thirteen is close enough.”
“Edlawit, name the Pantaganents.”
“Ours, Pantaganent Six, Canadi. Then there’s Pantaganent One, Afriaribe, Pantaganent Two, Euraja.”
“In Londontown,” Arous sang, “they live all underground, underground.”
“Pantaganent Three -”
“Oh, I like Pantagent Three, that’s where all the ice monsters live grrrr.”
“Stop interrupting me and nothing can live there it’s too cold.”
“Uh-huh, the Diofe said that when the Thirteen come everybody can live everywhere. Even in the sea!”
“I know that, silly. Pantaganent Three isn’t where the ice monsters live either. That’s Pantaganent Four.”
“Uh-uh,” argued Arous.
“Is too, Miguel tell her.”
“Miguel!” Priscilla’s voice sang out from the house, over the wildflower meadow and to the barn. The humid air carried it, crisp and clear, as if it was a gentle voice at our ear.
“Last one to the porch is a rotten egg, kiddos” I said. We three jumped, floating down from the loft and ran out of the barn hand in hand.
“Is that the real world Migi?”
“No, Arous,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s what the world is like. It’s a vision of the world.”
“Like your mind-sight?”
“No . . . well, yes, sort of. It is what happened.”
We were in the barn loft leaning into a hill of hay. The light was softening outside. I always loved night in the Bowl. It wasn’t scary, like outside the Bowl, but full of rest. The moon was rising and Arous’ skin began to radiate iridescence. My hand resed on her head. The color of her hair made me think of Priscilla’s, black as a raven, except Arous had straight hair. In glow of the night, Arous’ hair would be the deep blue of midnight.
“What happened, Migi?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know Migi.”
“Of course you do, you’ve heard the story before.”
“Let Edlawit tell.”
“No, it’s your turn. I need to know that you understand.”
“Why Migi? Why you need to know?”
“Because it’s my job, Arous.”
Edlawit was squirming. She was doing pretty good for a four-year-old. I was afraid I wasn’t doing as good keeping my mind still as Edlawit was sitting and I’m a too-many-centuries-to-count-year-old.
“Migi, your hand is the color of maple syrup. The maple syrup the lady brought.”
“Arous.”
“And, Edwi's the color of the buckwheat honey. Sasquatches always bring buckwheat honey for Spring Jub’lee don’t they Miguel. At night mine isn’t silver – what do you call it?”
“Iridescent,” I said, “Arous. Tell me the story.”
“Irdescent,” she sighed. “Migi and the world will change?”
“As you tell it, the world in my hand will change.”
“Okay. Well. The lands were all separate. Well, first they were together but then the Void happened. Kezza – what’s his name, Migi?”
“Quetzalcoatl.”
“His name slammed into the big land and made them all float out in smaller pieces. Contentments.”
“Continents.”
“Then the Void ruptured and scared all the lands back together. Almost together. Now they are almost together. Pageants.”
“Pantaganents.”
“Right, Migi,” she gasped. “Look, Migi! The world in your hands did what I said.”
“I told you.”
“I want to tell it again.”
“Answer one question.”
“Anything for you, Migi,” she said.
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“That’s not a question, Migi.”
“What brings the world the rest of the way together?”
“After right now?”
“Yes, later.”
Arous cocked her head and furrowed her brow. She didn’t know.
“I know, Miguel,” said Edlawit. Her voice was soft and patient now but in about 12 years she’ll turn to fire. “The thirteen.”
“The thirteen what, Migi?” asked Arous.
“Details, details,” I said laughing. “The thirteen is close enough.”
“Edlawit, name the Pantaganents.”
“Ours, Pantaganent Six, Canadi. Then there’s Pantaganent One, Afriaribe, Pantaganent Two, Euraja.”
“In Londontown,” Arous sang, “they live all underground, underground.”
“Pantaganent Three -”
“Oh, I like Pantagent Three, that’s where all the ice monsters live grrrr.”
“Stop interrupting me and nothing can live there it’s too cold.”
“Uh-huh, the Diofe said that when the Thirteen come everybody can live everywhere. Even in the sea!”
“I know that, silly. Pantaganent Three isn’t where the ice monsters live either. That’s Pantaganent Four.”
“Uh-uh,” argued Arous.
“Is too, Miguel tell her.”
“Miguel!” Priscilla’s voice sang out from the house, over the wildflower meadow and to the barn. The humid air carried it, crisp and clear, as if it was a gentle voice at our ear.
“Last one to the porch is a rotten egg, kiddos” I said. We three jumped, floating down from the loft and ran out of the barn hand in hand.
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