Behind each tale I write is a personal journey. Along with the rhythms and nature’s imagery exists a mirage of feelings brought on by my experiences. For one experience, lies a white buffalo I never saw but felt.

It involved traveling with my father a little while after his heart attack. He was a member of an airstream group which traveled across the country in these silver-like rocket ship campers; perfect for my dad as he was a submariner in his youth for the navy. We, my brother and myself were to meet him in “somewhere, Nebraska.” We flew as I remember transferring 3 flights to land in a cornfield. I cried most of the trip being afraid of flying. But all through the flight, I kept thinking of the white buffalo we were to see. I had read somewhere that in indigenous cultures it was a symbol of unity and peace. (http://www.whitebuffaloday.com/history/). We met my Dad off the plane, and I was relieved to be afoot again. I thought next stop, white buffalo! I was wrong as it was a mere 400 miles from where we were. Throughout the trip I kept my eye on the road… I would see a bill board, “white buffalo farm 300 miles.” I would feel chills down my spine as we kept getting closer. Finally, the day arrived. I was to see the renown white buffalo.

I got to the farm with my father and brother. We stood patiently behind the fence for four hours looking for the white buffalo. It was a small farm, and there were some trees and shrubbage dotting through the fenced in field. The guide came up to us and asked us how we were doing…

And of course, I asked, “Where is the white buffalo?”

The guide said, “We rarely see it, they usually hide to avoid being seen. A sort of camouflage because they are so different from the rest.”

We stood there for maybe another half an hour, we never saw the white buffalo.

That night at the campground, my father and brother decided to play basketball at the open court with an old basketball net dangling from a pole. I was surprised my father was playing as it was right after his heart attack. I caught myself thinking that I never played basketball with my father. I dropped everything I was doing, ie. An art project with one of the older ladies in the group and rushed to the court. My father looked a little pale and very wrinkled. His white hair hung wispy out of his airstream baseball cap. I started to dribble the ball right along with him and my brother….

As I tried to throw the ball in the net,

I felt chills down my spine.

Ptevans