Ande was spending some quiet time alone and was visited by a mysterious entity.
One morning, in the wee hours, before the sun thought about rising, I was up enjoying my “me” time. I was journaling – goodness knows I had a lot to journal about. At the time, there were issues with the children that worried a mother into ulcers. Off in the distance I heard a voice. I looked outside, but the voice was too far yet for the person to be seen. It grew clearer. Still no one visible. Louder and clearer, I could finally distinguish the sounds of the voice. It was a Native American singing in his native tongue. The sound was as clear as lead crystal. The resonant voice was like no other I had ever heard before. It was a man’s voice, yet so clear and unfaltering that it could not have been too old of a man. Yet, the experience in the voice made it so pristine that it could not have been too young of a man. Perfection – spine tingling perfection cannot describe the voice well enough. I continued running from window to window and could not find this singing man. Finally I ran out to the porch where the direction of the sound was more discernable and looked that direction only to find the sound dimming and fog rolling in.
If you find yourself in central Sioux Falls on a foggy early morning, keep your ears open and you may hear the beautiful song of Ande's friend.
Page Updated: 10/03/2007