The light from the tiny candle placed on the floor in the center of the hogan seemed to be consumed by the darkness of the room. I remember being able to make out images of scarves and trappings on the inside of the round walls, but no details. There were cushions to sit on, a welcome change from the hogan at Dine College. I could see everyone’s face within my minds eye, everyone’s but Annie’s that is. I remember wishing I could see her face, but sat in the darkness leaning against the cool wall, listening to her words.

 Annie’s story seemed to start at no particular place and preceded randomly forward, with the past, present and future blending. By now I was comfortable with this. I knew it to be the Navajo way of telling. There were messages contained in the story, and when Annie spoke to me I listened intently. At times, the message past to someone else and my mind drifted. I thought about the cushions and wondered how many people had sat on them. I wondered about the material that covered the interior walls of the hogan and wished I could place it. I looked at Annie’s form, thinking about all the stories I had heard about her from my grandmother. I looked hard at her, wishing I could see her face.

 Annie’s sense of humor surprised me. She seemed quite pleased with herself when she pulled a prank on us, and even now I catch myself sometimes singing “Sugar in the morning, sugar in the evening, sugar at noon and night.” Always, I am reminded that laughter is good medicine that can heal the soul. I remember wanting to give something to Annie, wanting to say to her you are important to me because of the people who connect us, wanting to tell her how long she had been a part of my life. I doubt Annie understood how much giving the gift meant to me. It was simply a joke, but she liked it, and I felt good for having left it with her.

 Before leaving the hogan, we each passed by Annie. Stopping to shake hands and say thank you. I remember my shadow hide her features, but her eyes shimmered in the darkness. Outside the hogan in the night sky Annie pointed out the North Star, the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and the Seven Sisters. I was aware, from both her actions and her words, that Annie knew things that reached far beyond the place where she lived, and perhaps even beyond the stars she called by name. As we drove away, I knew I would probably never see Annie Kahn again. I was saddened by that fact. More than anything, I wish I had seen her face.

Sunset at Annie Kahn's