I had been living in a summer cottage that was directly on a steep bank of Puget Sound. A white cottage with a Madrone tree that worked fiercely to keep the bank from falling into the Sound. The cottage was heated by a wood stove through the cold wet winter months. On clear days, Mount Rainier hovered over the water on the left. The Olympic Range grew out of the water on the right. Puget Sound on the Pacific Ocean - was directly in front of my eyes.
This was my first relationship out of college and my first home - for 8 months of the year. When May arrived, my partner and I had to get ready to vacate the cottage for the summer. The first summer we traveled by kayak on the Yukon River. When the second summer arrived I thought, "What about living in a tipi for 4 months?" I proposed the idea and my partner agreed. I went to the Suquamish Tribal Office seeking permission to put the tipi on the saltwater marsh land just east of Indianola. Permission was granted as long as the tipi was placed back out of sight of the beach. We found a used-but-in-excellent shape tipi, and a set of old poles. We had to carry the tipi, poles and all the other household items back to the site on foot as there was no road. We put straw down for flooring and our bed was on some pallets. I made a little kitchen area with our camp stove. I had fantasies of visitors and bonfires and so I hauled 6 wooden stumps up from the beach for seats. Even at that time when i was sweating and struggling to carry those stumps I was amazed and grateful at my physical strength and abilities. The salt marsh turned out to be a very solitary spot with only 2 human visitors that I can recall. My partner was gone weeks at a time for work and me and my cat, Katzenjammers would spend the nights in the tipi together. The tipi itself held the same qualities for me that I had experienced living on the edge of the sea; A lonely beauty and endless quiet. Katzenjammers, my cat, turned into a stealthy "watch cat" and would growl at any noise outside. He also was a great mouser, jumping around in the straw at night and shooing the mice across my body, then he pouncing on me in hot pursuit. I had a whole routine in place to bathe and get to work each day. I would ride my bike to a friend's house where I would shower. Then I would continue onto the ferry to the Seattle mainland. I worked the morning shift at a restaurant and was generally back to the tipi by afternoon. There were no street or other lights out on the salt marsh and if I returned at night, it was pitch black with just the sound of the waves. But Katzenjammers would greet me where the path turned in from the beach and he and I would make our way to the tipi without even using even a flashlight. The man I met at the restaurant and allowed to come into my life, into our tipi, into me, was not even someone I respected. I was just intrigued with all the flirting and thirsty for attention and companionship. Sometimes relationships end when you move on with someone new. In this case it was never about him. What was left was not a new and exciting relationship, but hurt, betrayal and confusion. For my partner, the tipi symbolized a place of pain. For me it was still my home. Soon, the owners of the summer cottage moved back to Seattle and we were free to move back in the cottage. We dismantled the tipi and household goods, taking everything back except the 5 unused stumps, Our relationship was changing. I wanted more freedom. We sought the help of a therapist but I knew in my heart it was over and time for me to move on. The tipi stayed in storage for a few years, then moved to the midwest with me, and a new partner, folded inside its canvas carrying bag. After my first daughter was born my husband and I had a yard sale when I suddenly recalled the tipi. I went to the garage and got it out. Immediately someone bought it and that was that. Months later Walt told us he had found poles and put the tipi up in the Vale and we could visit it any time. It became a permanent fixture in the community common area, another remarkable place. Children played, friends shared secrets, and the community found rest in its shelter.
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Bodhanaa NithyanandaWriting to Discover and En-spire. Archives
April 2021
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