Mom’s Wind Chimes
Listen. The dead are talkative tonight.
My wife and I are taking shelter from a spring storm, relaxing on our hotel balcony, when the conversation, via wind chimes, begins.
You see, in the Apache tradition, wind chimes are voices of your ancestors whispering their wisdom. At least that’s what my mom said each time she hung chimes in our yard.
My wife and I knew Kodo in Bakersfield. My wife knew much better than I but it was easy to understand that she was a remarkable person.