“A little help Wendy?!” she schreeched. Wendy turned around to see Anoki her arms full of food, the frybread glistening in the afternoon sun. “It’s about time, I’m starving!” Wendy countered as she reached for the box of fried goodness. “I love coming to pow wows, I have tried to make Indian Tacos at home and they never turn out, I can never get the fry-bread fluffy like this”. “I know, mine always turn out like little hockey pucks” chided Anoki. The girls sat on the bleachers watching as the dancers started to gather for grand entry.
“Don’t you wish sometimes that you knew more about who you were and where you come from?” asked Wendy. “No, not really.” Replied Anoki, as she continued to look out over the crowd. She really wasn’t paying attention to Wendy. She’d heard this story before and wasn’t in the mood of getting into this deep philosophical discussion, when she had other pressing issues to worry about. “Where the heck is he?, she thought, I’m sure that was his truck”.
h I knew what it all meant. As I said before it’s been 10 years and I still wonder.