With the Water

[FMJ]

With the Water
FMJ

(1)

The woman stood anxiously waiting on the dock in front of the weathered shack leaning on a gnarled black stick of a cane. A thick braid the color of storm clouds over deep water hung half way down her back as she gazed into the mists rising from the bayou. She could feel that her kin were coming home, that they were close.
“Soon now . . . there, maybe . . . Yes!” A flicker of lantern light shone yellow through the cypress trees as a boat rounded the turn at Little Bayou Pigeon. “They will be here in minutes,” she clapped her hands together and hurried to the porch steps of the shack. “I’ve got to set the kettle to boil for tea,” she spoke aloud even though there was no one to hear but the critters and the gators.

The sturdy boat eased smoothly to the small dock by the shack and a man jumped out to deftly catch it while securing a line to a post with quick skill born of long practice. He straightened gazing up to the hurricane lantern silhouetted in the window in anticipation and excitement. “Ma-ma? It’s me, Thibault! Don’t shoot!” he laughed as his wife’s eyes flew wide in alarm until he explained the joke about his mother’s considerable skill with a pistol.

The story was told about a time when she had put a bullet through a man’s ear during an argument. The joke within the story revolved around whether or not she had missed. The woman in the boat carefully passed Thibault the infant she held wrapped in a blanket and he helped her to the dock. “Ma-ma, I’ve brought someone who would like to meet you!” Arm in arm, the young couple walked to the edge of the porch as the screen door flew open and Ma-ma Boudreaux rushed out.

“Thibault! Come in, come in! I’m so glad to see you! I have felt the water telling me all day that kin was coming! But, wait . . . who is this beautiful girl and this sleeping babe?” she asked in her lilting Cajun accent.

“Ma-ma, may I present to you my wife, Claire, and my son!” Thibault said beaming with pride.

Ma-ma Boudreaux crooned to the young woman holding the child in her arms as she gazed into her eyes, “Oh, oh, let me look at you. Such a beauty! You’re a beautiful girl. Oh, Thibault, you’ve brought home a beauty! And she has given you a son? Praise the almighty, the Boudreaux name lives on. What name have you given this man-child, Thibault?

“We have named him Jamie Thibault Boudreaux, Ma-ma. But, would you christen him for us and give us your blessing?”

“Me? Why yes, yes of course I will, Thibault. It is only right and proper that Cajun blood be christened with the water here on the bayou just as you were.”

Ma-ma Boudreaux asked Thibault to pour a little water from the kettle into a bowl to cool as Claire folded the blanket back from the sleeping infant and passed him carefully to his grandmother’s arms. As she held him up to see his face in the light of the lantern, the wind blew through the Spanish moss hanging in curtains from the cypress trees. Ma-ma Boudreaux gazed into the shining expectant faces of her son and his new wife at his side in the flickering light of the coal-oil lantern and remembering when her own husband, strong Andre was still alive with his dark eyes shining and she stood close by his side. Her eyes glistened from the memory as she dipped her hand into the warm water and placed her fingertips gently on the forehead of the sleeping infant.

Bowing her head, she began, “I, Adrienne Xavier Boudreaux ask this blessing with the water. Father God, please bless this little dear one and keep him safe through fair and foul.

[FMJ]

I christen you Jamie Thibault Boudreaux, my lovely grandson. May you be blessed with long life and happiness all the days of your life. Amen.”

When Ma-ma Boudreaux withdrew her hand from the infant’s forehead, his dark eyes were open wide and he gazed unblinking at his grandmother, holding her within his gaze for a long moment before closing them again and drifting back to sleep without a sound.

“Oh, oh my,” Ma-ma Boudreaux flustered breathlessly as she stumbled and fought to keep her composure.

“Ma-ma! Are you alright? What’s wrong?” cried Thibault and Claire as they rushed to her side.

Recovering quickly, Ma-ma Boudreaux carefully passed the sleeping infant to Claire as she brushed their concerns aside saying, “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m just a foolish old woman. After I heard the water speak today, I was so excited to have kin coming home that I must have forgotten to eat something. Please, come sit, you both must be hungry too. I have plenty of fine shrimp creole in the pot and rice for us all.”

Claire cast worried glances between Ma-ma Boudreaux and Thibault but he just smiled and shook his head.
“It’s alright, that is her way. She will probably not say more,” was Thibault’s only response. After dinner, they made little Jamie a perfect bed within a bureau drawer where he dreamed as the wind blew in the tall cypress trees on the Louisiana bayou.
As Ma-ma Boudreaux was filling her pipe to smoke, Thibault produced a bottle of Irish whiskey and they all drank a toast to the future.

They talked long into the night while Ma-ma Boudreaux told them stories passed down through the generations of the Cajun peoples and the hardships they faced as they fought to survive, hunting and trapping from the far north down the great Mississippi River to the Louisiana delta country.

[AlaskaSue]

Oh! An FMJ story! Cool!!

[ted]

Rattling grandma when he was a newborn? What is in store for him? I need moar, Thank you.

[Mr Bill]

Perhaps she has the for-seeing and he showed her something

[nancy98]

On boy! I can tell this is going to be a good one.��

[seraphima]

Ah, a good new story for the New Year! Thank you!

[nancy98]

Hope this is a nice long running story.��

[FMJ]

Thibault and Jamie baited home-made wire traps with salt pork to catch messes of crawfish and fished for white perch in deep pools on lazy summer afternoons. While frog gigging at night by lantern light, they would often see the red reflective eyes of gators. Thibault taught Jamie the space in between those reflective eyes was a good rule-of-thumb indicator of a gator’s size. A four-inch space meant a medium size gator and a twelve-inch space meant ‘paddle faster’ Jamie!

Ma-ma Boudreaux taught young Jamie the nature lore of the bayou and how everything was connected to the water. He learned the names of constellations in the night sky and how to find his way using only the stars for direction. He learned to name birds by their songs and how to imitate them. Ma-ma Boudreaux taught him where to find edible as well as medicinal plants that grew in the woods, marshes and bayous. Under her experienced hand, he learned to recognize and avoid venomous snakes while quietly threading the numerous game trails. Recognizing and respecting the territorial displays of animals became an interesting subject for Jamie who quickly drew human parallels and began to form his own rudimentary psychology. Sometimes, it was hard for his grandmother to keep up.

[Texican]

Jamie, the young Boudreaux, is learning life's needed lessons from his grandmother....

Thanks FMJ for the chapter....

Texican....

[FMJ]

(2)

The year that Jamie celebrated nine summers had been eventful. Thibault was promoted to a job with better pay and they had moved to a new house in a different neighborhood. Never one to make new friends quickly or easily, Jamie had felt ‘up-rooted’ due to the mid-year school change and missed his childhood friends.
When they came to visit Ma-ma Boudreaux on the bayou that summer, the boy was quiet and withdrawn. His grandmother respected his silence, keeping her peace and asking him no questions knowing he would eventually say what was on his mind. She sat on the simple bench by the dock for hours where he sat watching the turtles, frogs and fish.
Ma-ma Boudreaux was ready to discuss whatever problem was troubling the young man, whether it be leaving the familiarity of his childhood home, losing his friends when he had to change schools or even not liking his new teachers. Maybe it could even be a girl!

Jamie drew in a deep breath and straightened himself as he turned to look at his grandmother with his dark eyes.

“Grand ma-ma? Please tell me about my Grand pa-pa. Tell me about your, Andre,” he asked with wide-eyed innocence. Ma-ma Boudreaux was taken aback suddenly remembering the loss of balance she felt as she gazed deep into Jamie’s dark eyes and felt his presence at the christening.

With greater frequency over the last couple of years, Jamie had been able to ask questions that took his grandmother by complete surprise. She had reluctantly, on more than one occasion, been forced to reassess the depth of the boy’s understanding. Perhaps, this was once again, one of those times.

“Yes, Jamie. What would you like to know about your Grand pa-pa?” she replied quietly.