Betty

by Tiffany McDaniel

“To the Cherokee, the earth had a gender,” he would tell us. “The mother. The she.

“Everything we need to live a life as long as we’re allowed has been given to us in nature,” he’d say. “That’s not to claim if you eat this plant, you will never die, for the plant itself will one day die, and you are no more special than it. All we can do is try to heal the things that can be healed and ease the complaints of the things that cannot be. At the very least, we bring the earth inside us and restore the knowledge that even the smallest leaf has a soul.”

“Besides, who needs to be in a church. God’s in each tree, and we got plenty of them around.”

“God hates us, Betty.” “The Carpenters?” I asked. “Women.”

I don’t know about you, but I would say that a man who has skies in his head full of the stars of his children, is a man who deserves his child’s love. Especially from the child with the most stars.”