He makes another mark in the clay. Now there are three shapes. And to my surprise, they look familiar to me.

“,” he says, pointing with his stick to the first one, the one that resembles a big G. “Tsa.”

“.” The W shape again. “La.”

“.” A mark like an English Y. “Gi.”

“ Tsalagi?” It’s the name of our people. “,” I repeat. I can actually see and hear a pattern. And for the first time I find myself getting excited about it.

“Wait,” I say, putting my finger on the shape that resembles a G. “Isn’t this one the sign, for another sound? For “Lo?”

My father chuckles. “Your memory is good, but your eyes are fooling you. Look.”

Then he draws the two signs next to each other and I can see that they are alike but different.

I’ve picked up another stick. “,” I say, drawing that Y shape. “Gi.”

My father draws a sign like an upside down J next to it. “,” he says. “Li.”

“-? !” It’s our word for dog. I now see it in my mind as clearly as if it was an actual picture of a dog.

I look at my father, that same quiet smile is on his lips that is almost always there. But the light in his eyes seems brighter. He can see how excited I am.

“Edoda,” I say before I can stop myself, “Father! You’re not crazy!”

It’s a foolish thing to say, I know. But I mean something more that that. What I mean is that I now understand my father better than I have ever understood him before.

And he knows what I mean. The small smile on my father’s face becomes a little broader and he nods.

“Ah,” he says, “I am glad to hear that. I was worried about myself for a while.”

Then he lets loose a deep belly laugh. And I am laughing with him. I wrap my arms around my father, almost lifting him off the ground. He embraces me and almost falls as he places his weight too much on his weak leg. But I hold on to him, helping him keep his balance as we stumble around together, half dancing, there on the banks of the stream, our feet making their own markings in the red clay.

We just keep laughing and laughing.

And if anyone were to see us right now they would know for sure that the both of us certainly are crazy.

CHAPTER 13

I Agree

When we have finally finished laughing, we sit back down together on the bank of the stream. My father and I look at the shapes he drew, symbols that now talk to me as clearly as spoken words. It is hard to find words to express what is now in my heart.