The Elephant

The elephant stood tall, unashamed and bold. It stared me in the eyes without flinching, without blinking. I became fully aware that I was locked in a stare down contest so I casually looked away as if I was unaware of its intentions. It was too strong, too magnanimous to even try to stare down. I tried to divert my attention. I distracted the thoughts and directed the conversation toward the weather. That is always a good, solid easy path. Certainly not the rage filled mine field of religion and politics. A calm peaceful middle ground where even if you disagree on it, no one is that passionate about it to blow up, stomp out and lose touch. “It looks like rain again today”, I said with a confidence that was built on the foundation of the dark rain clouds overhead and the low crackle of thunder in the distance.

The subject changed to both the hate of and need for more rain and like a master magician with wiggly fingers, I escaped their revelation. But still I felt the Elephant staring, but making no sounds. We all looked amazed at its size, it’s power. It’s trunk alone had to weigh more than a man. Old battle scars lined it’s face and legs like roads on an old map. While we adjusted our lenses to snap picture after picture, the conversation remained on the rain. “They say three days of rain!” a voice called from the far side of the group of nine. “It figures! Every time we try to plan one of these” another voice answered, belonging to the oldest one of the seven females in the group. A third voice began to express fear of his equipment getting ruined and wet and a moment later a hidden panic enveloped us all. We began loading all the non essential but expensive equipment into hard watertight cases to insure that when the sky did open, our exit will be quick and deliberate. The beast stood stoic and unchanged. It had no interest in the rain, it had no anxiety about being wet or fear of its purpose being ruined. As our attention remained away from it, it began to grunt softly as if it was talking to itself. It became apparent that while we all were there to recognize this creature, the creature was far more aware of us than we were of it.

The group consisted of my family, my wife, our four daughters, my brother, my sister and our Mother. It had been a lifelong goal of ours to do this so when the opportunity presented itself, and recognizing that our schedules were in symphony, we decided it’s now or never. Well, that’s not entirely true. When I say “we” I’m not necessarily saying I had much of anything to do with the planning of it. I can think of a million things I’d rather be doing than being here, now, uncomfortable and hungry and about to be wet.

As we finished loading our gear the conversation drifted without pause or recognition to the pessimistic topic of floods and droughts. All within ear shot of the giant who stood unblinking and unimpressed. Judging the sky above and the blackness of the clouds for as far as we could see, a feeling of overwhelming gloom began to invade us all. I believe it was my wife who was first to resign. “I’m done”, she muttered under her breath as she lifted the last of her packs to her shoulder and began walking, uncharacteristically fast toward the nearest vehicle which was facing the exit trail. No one objected. The elephant stood staring undistracted by her sudden departure. Another crack of thunder and drizzling rain began to fall, tapping softly against the dry ground beneath our feet. “Here it comes!” I said with an emotionless yawn as if I was unaffected by the current chatter of droughts of floods. One streak of lightning was enough to steal my older brother’s resolve and in an instant he headed to the vehicle without a word. As I stood beneath the rain watching my brother depart I couldn’t help but think “I wish Daddy was here”. Our Father was a retired police officer who worked 28 years in one of the worst cities in the country. He was a veteran who served three tours of duty in Vietnam and upon his return to the states, was never ever the same. Like a reverse metamorphosis where the beautiful butterfly climbs into a cocoon to become a caterpillar, so was he. He was a great Dad prior to the war but war changes people. Serving his country became the Cocoon that eventually birthed the caterpillar that we now call Daddy. His fear and anxiety of crowds or people in general is the reason he chose not to not come here with us. He never does.

My mental drift was interrupted by the sweet sound of my oldest daughters voice. “Daddy we are gonna go with Mommy, we are getting soaked”. She was holding my third daughter’s hand as they stared at me through the speckled sunglasses their mother had given them earlier. “I understand baby”, I responded, though I only half understood, as they walked toward the vehicle where my brother and wife sat. They glanced back at me as the door opened and their smiling Mother welcomed them inside the cool dry safety of the back seat. “And then there were five”, I thought as the door closed loudly echoing across the wilderness. I looked back at the giant in front of me, it never blinked as it stood staring as if only at me.

Another crackle of thunder, another streak of light and the heavens let loose. The rain fell in sheets of silver quenching the thirsty ground and turning the heather gray beast to charcoal. The car behind us started and after two light beeps of a horn began it’s descent out of the wild. The elephant was unmoved, appearing to be far more interested in me than I was of it.

My second oldest daughter and my youngest huddled against me as I feebly attempted to shield them from the storm. My mother and sister moved closer to as if to create our own shelter from the rain and lightning and thunder. The elephant began grunting and stamping as it shook its enormous head side to side. It lifted its trunk and sounded a call that seemed several decibels louder than the rain and the thunder. Still we stood huddled. My thoughts followed the others, my brother, my girls my wife into the vehicle they ran to and out of the wilderness away from us. I felt hurt that they gave up so easily, so quickly. My hurt turned rapidly to anger and finally to indifference. If they came all this way to give up now, it’s their loss, I thought bitterly. No sooner had this thought come, when another followed behind it. Like the thunder to the lightning. There are still five of us. Five who did not run. Five who chose to brave the wind and the rain and the thunder and the lightning and the droughts and the floods. Five of us who used the storm to pull them ever closer instead of allowing it to frighten and divide us . I felt tears, at first drizzling and then erupting from my eyes as they melded with the rain on my cheeks. I felt the huddle get closer and tighter. Warm hands in my hands, warm arms weaving around me, covering me, protecting me. There in that moment, I felt for the first time in a very very long time, loved. Absolute, unconditional, love which was not afraid. I wept. I felt weak beneath the strength of such love. My knees buckled and before I could offer any type of resistance, this proud, independent child fell to his knees in surrender. The loving huddle cocooned around me, followed me there. There we were crying together in the wilderness, in the storm, in the mud, holding onto each other for dear life. “Daddy”. My youngest daughters voice whispered in complete harmony with the symphony of love around me. “Daddy?” She whispered again. “Yes love?”, I answered through lips drowning in tears and rain. “I think we should talk about that big elephant now”, she said with a love and empathy that broke down any remnants of defense that may have remained within me. I looked at her there in the mud. In the wilderness. In the rain. Looking up at me. “My love…”, I whispered back. “I think that’s the best idea” I said humbly as I turned to look at the giant elephant that I had ignored for far too long.