The Old Man and the Boy

THE OLD MAN AND THE BOY.

   The old grey eyes stared, without blinking, straight ahead towards the distant horizon. The clarity of youth had long since deminished and the purity of colour had faded. Now a light milky film of advancing years covered the irises. However, the old grey eyes were still capable of seeing the flaming red disk as the sun slowly descended in the early evening sky. They continued to watch as the great mass of clear blue expanse was gradually turned red by the smouldering red disk as the sun began to sink towards the earth and the light of day was chased away.
   Without warning the light winds that blew across the plains suddenly ebbed and died as an errie silence befell the earth so as not to disturb this moment. It then seemed as if the entire world had paused, as if waiting in excited anticipation for the moment, to also bear witness before this most wondrous event. Then across the lands darkness slowly began to fall, spreading out like long tentacles, casting everything before them into the blackness that is night.
   Sitting on the brow of a hill the old man sighed in contentment as the last of the light slowly faded and died. A slight movement at his side caught his attention and he moved his head slowly to his right and looked down upon the face of the young boy at his side. The old man was a little surprised to find the young boy still staring in awe at the distant horizon.
   “Did you see it my son?” He asked in a low voice.
   “It was beautiful my grandfather.” The young boy answered. His own voice reflecting the wonderment that the sight had instilled within his young heart.

   “And did you also notice what else happened,” the old man asked as he too turned slowly back to face the blackening sky before them, “when Brother Sun disappeared back into the womb of Mother Earth?”
   “The entire world fell silent my grandfather.” Came the answer.
   In the darkness of the night the old man allowed a smile of pleasure to crease his lips. He knew that his grandson could not see his old weather beaten face, now heavily lined by the passage of time, in the pervading darkness, and therefore could not see the great feeling of love that now welled up inside the proud grandfathers chest. For it gave him great pleasure to learn that the young boy sitting beside him had shown great awareness and had answered his question correctly.
   The two then fell silent as they continued sitting upon the hill as the air around them grew steadily colder. The old man watched as the circle of Sister Moon, clear and bright, rose steadily higher in the blackness of the sky. Surrounding this majestic ball of silvery light appeared countless numbers of tiny balls of light which seemed to twinkle and sparkle down upon them.
   Then without any warning, or perceptible sound, a brilliant streak of light sped across the vast blackness of the sky high above them. The light travelled in an arch and brought forth a sigh of excitement and wonder from both old and young alike. Then it vanished as quickly and as silently as it had appeared.
    “Did you see it my grandfather?” The young boy enquired excitedly. He was trying hard to keep the excitement from his voice as he asked the question for he wanted it to sound the same as when the old man had asked him about the sun. But his youth was against him. He had not learnt the art of withholding his true feelings yet. Those lessons would come much later in his life.
    “It was beautiful my son.” He answered without looking down at the eager young face looking up at him. “Are you tired yet little one?” The tenderness in the old man’s voice made the young boy smile.
    “Not yet my grandfather.” He replied as he moved his body closer to that of the old man. The grandfather raised his right arm slowly so that the young boy could easily snuggle into his side. When the boy was sitting comfortably he lowered his arm across the young boy’s shoulders covering them like a warm buffalo blanket.

   “Now listen to the sounds of the night.” He told the boy as they settled into silence once more.
   With their bodies so close, that they were touching, the young boy drew both warmth and comfort from the old man’s presence. He did not want this precious time, spent within the company of his grandfather, who had become his teacher and was therefore teaching him how to be a true Human Being, to come to an end.
    “Hoooooowl.”
    The haunting cry in the night echoed loud and clear across the dark open expanse of the plains. The old man felt the young boy jump beside him at this frightful sound. To the old man this sound was as old as the sacred lands on which he walked and lived his life. From one generation of Human Beings unto the next they had all listened to the primitive callings of their four legged brothers, the grey wolf, who happened to share the sacred lands with them.
   “That is the sound of your brother the grey wolf.” The old man began to explain softly. “The Oglala Lakota and the grey wolf are brothers. There is no need to be afraid my son. For they and we are very much alike. We both travel far and wide across these sacred lands of our forefathers, searching for food and water, which is the life source of all living things. Our brothers can travel at great speed, when the need arises, and they also possess great strength and endurance. They are intelligent and fearless. Now he is calling for his four legged brothers to come and join him, for when the pack is together, like when our warriors come together, then the hunt shall begin.”
   “Do they hunt us my grandfather?” The boy asked showing just a trace of fear in his voice.
   “No my little one.” The old man answered gently, much to the young boys relief. “They are much to wise to hunt us.”
   “Then do they have good medicine my grandfather?” Asked the boy.

   “Powerful medicine.” The old man informed him. “Because they had always been wanderer’s they know everything. They know the habits of the animals who share these land with us. They understand the changing weather from moon to moon. And when the time comes for you to seek advice it should be to the spirit of the wolf you must journey. For they are far wiser than their two legged brothers.”
   “Wiser than you are my grandfather?” Asked the boy in true astonishment. For in his young heart he believed his grandfather to be the wisest one to walk upon the earth.
   “Wiser than I my son.” Confirmed the old man much to the young boy’s disappointment. Then without another word he rose slowly up onto his thin rickety legs and cupping both hands to his mouth then called out into the night. “Hooooowl!” He then stood listening for his call to be answered by his four legged brothers and when they replied he sat down again beside the astonished boy.
   “They answered you my grandfather.” He said in a low voice hardly believing what he had just witnessed.
   “We are old friends.” The old man smiled down at him.
   “What did you say to them?” The young boy now wanted to know.
   “I wished them good hunting.” He answered.
   “And what did they say?”
   “They thanked me for my blessings and asked me to join them.” The old man told him. He could sense the growing excitement within the young boy’s body and mind because of the events unfolding before him.
   “And will you join them?” He asked after a few moments of silence.
   “Not tonight,” the old man said as the young boy once more moved in tight against his side, “for my bones are old and cannot run as fast, or as far, as they once could.”

   The young boy fell silent as he sat thinking about the grey wolf and the old man. But the more he thought about what had just taken place, the stronger his feelings became that his grandfather, who was now holding him close once again, was far wiser than any grey wolf. And then a thought suddenly bore fruit within his young mind as if to prove his point. If the grey wolf was wiser than his grandfather, then how could it be that the old man sitting beside him could speak and understand the language of their four legged brothers? And yet they could not speak the language of the Oglala Lakota? A surge of joy flooded through the young boy’s heart at this reasoning.
   The old man could sense that something was troubling the young boy’s mind. He knew that it had to do with the words that they had just spoken concerning their four legged brothers. He also knew, as only a grandfather could know, that the torment within this young boy’s heart and mind had something to do with the deep rooted love that existed between them. This love, the old man also knew, had prompted the young boy into believing that nothing upon Mother Earth could ever be as wise or as brave as his grandfather in the eyes of his beloved grandson.
   “Do you now hear the cries of the pack as they come together?” The old man asked as a chorus of howls filled the still night air.
   “Yes my grandfather.” Answered the boy as he listened to the sounds that still managed to send an involuntary shiver running down his spine.
   “You seemed troubled my little one?” The old man enquired softly.
   “You say that the wolf is wiser than you, my grandfather,” the boy said turning his confused face towards that of the old man, “and yet it is you who speak and understand the words of the wolf?”
   “Who do you think taught me to both to speak and understand them?” The old man smiled lovingly down at the young boy. He could see by the crest fallen look upon his grandson’s face which showed that he had not considered this fact himself. The old man squeezed the young boy’s shoulders and pulled him gently to his breast. “Would you consider it wise of me to pass this knowledge on to another?”

   “It would depend upon whom you chose.” The young boy answered after giving the question due reverence of thought.
   “I see,” nodded the old man in agreement, “what if I chose, say a boy about this tall,” here the old man place the palm of his hand atop of the young boy’s head, “and a boy who also happens to be my very own beloved grandson?”
   “Then that boy would be deeply honoured my grandfather.” Cried the boy with joy.
   And so, on a cold dark night, the grandfather recounted to the grandson the story of how as a young warrior the Grey Wolf, from whom the old man had taken his name, had first come and spoken with him. Then while the moon hung high above them he showed the boy, as they stood together upon the hill with their hands cupped to their mouths, how to speak the language of the wolf. Long into the cold night could their cries be heard across the land.
   The old grey eyes, now surrounded by whitening hair, crinkled as the long snout slowly parted from the lower jaw and a smile seemed to crease the face of the old wolf. He sat listening, with his young son at his side, just a short distance from his two legged brothers who were both oblivious to their presence. He watched in silence as his old friend ‘Grey Wolf’ patiently taught his young cub the language of the wolf.
   “Are all our two legged brothers like these two my father?” asked his son after listening to the two footers for a long time.
   “Not all,” answered Grey Eyes.
   The old wolf fell silent as a feeling of both pleasure and contentment spread throughout his ageing body. For he could now hear the words and there meaning slowly beginning to form upon the young cubs lips. Over and over again the cub practised. Howling loudly into the cold night air, which did not seem to dampen his spirits, until finally he got the words just right? As the first light of day began to chase the darkness of the night away old Grey Eyes’ ears pricked up.
   “Hello my brothers,” He heard the two legged cub call out, “I send to you my greetings.”
   Grey Eyes stood up and slowly stretched his aching body. He yawned, revealing a row of large white teeth, his hot breath clouding against the cold mist of the morning. Then he turned away from the hill and slowly walked away.
   “Hello my brothers!” The two legged cub called out again.
   “Aren’t you going to answer him father?” Grey Eyes’ young son wanted to know as he remained looking across at the hill and the young cub.
   The old wolf stopped and turned back to face his son. “It is not to me that he now calls. My time here has come and gone. Grey Wolf has now passed on the knowledge that he has gained to his cub as I have passed on my knowledge to you. Now it is for you to speak one to the other. May you and he always live in peace my son.” And then the old wolf turned and continued on, leaving his son standing alone behind him.

   “Hello my brothers!” Once again came the cry from the hill.
   “Hello Grey Wolf’s cub.” The young wolf instinctively replied.
   “Did you hear my grandfather?” The young boy cried excitedly as the answer rolled back across the plains to him.
   “Yes my son, I heard.” The old man answered proudly.
   “Good hunting my brother!” He called out to the wolf.
   “Thank you for your blessings my brother.” Replied the young wolf before he turned away, detecting the scent of his father upon the wind, he then broke into a trot as he rushed to rejoin the pack.
   The young boy, with a big smile playing upon his lips, walked slowly across to where the old man now sat snoozing and took his place beside him. As the sun rose steadily in the sky above them, its brightness returning warmth to the earth, the young boy sat silently beside his grandfather knowing in his heart, now more than ever, just who was the wisest of them all.

THE END