White Fox

I jumped out of bed and ran down to the river before anyone else was up.  It was my seventh birthday. I was sitting very still on the bank, trying to hear if the fish were speaking. Suddenly White Fox was sitting right next to me, also motionless. I smelled her fur, something new to my nose. Without turning, saw her in my peripheral vision. I was in the time of my life when I fully expected, as everyday, what adults called miracles. So I accepted her as my new playmate, thinking she was a fine birthday present from the world.

After that, White Fox and I often met on the riverbank. I told her my secrets. She would tilt her head when I spoke, and I have never in my life had a better listener. She taught me to leap, though I couldn’t corkscrew straight up, like she could. White Fox taught me many things.

I’m not sure when she vanished. Growing up is as mysterious as a flower opening.  You can never see it happening. Since the process was so incremental, I didn’t think to miss her.

It seemed I had traveled far away from the dimension where White Fox could make herself visible to me.  It was my 77th birthday. My cohort viewed magical happenings as mental decline rather than everyday miracles. I was on Mezcala Mountain, on a high bluff overlooking Lake Chapala. I had wandered off from the Birders, as I often did, needing balance between the solo and the social. I was sitting very still on the bluff, trying to hear if the heron or pelican or egret were singing as they soared.

The second my nose caught the whiff, I remembered. It was the scent of White Fox’s fur. There she was, large as life and right beside me. I could feel a smile spread over my face. The child inside me came out to play and it was easy to believe, again, in a world that sparkles with quantum magic in every direction. I leaned against her. She was so strongly connected to the ground that she could support my weight. Without a sound traveling through the air, White Fox whispered a secret to my heart. And a question.
Yes, dear Fox, I answered her. Yes, I’m ready.

©Susa Silvermarie 2023



3 Responses to “White Fox

  • Michele Skeele
    6 months ago

    Beautiful!!! Thanks for the reminder that miracles happen 🙂

  • Carol Greene
    6 months ago

    Such a beautiful story, Susa. A great reminder to let in our inner child regularly.

  • Barb Ester
    6 months ago

    A way to the mystery! Yes !

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