Last of Her Kind by Joni Caggiano

Image Source: Canva Pro

My leather dress clung tight to tired, wet skin.  At almost seven-foot-tall, I was a woman that obtained attention around humans far too quickly.  Thin, my shoulder blades stuck through just below my long, cylindrical neck.  It will be my last visit to say goodbye to a family of humans called the Simons.

Every year my lifelong love and I traveled to California to swim and play with their two children, Sam and Sarah.

Beloved was my mate Bjorn.  He and I were childless, so we loved the parents and the two children as if they were our kind.

Voyaging far in the wild sea with eyes as green as the kelp that floated about the ocean floor.   My hair was as long as my tail, which was the longest in our clan.  The males were envious of this, as it made me easily the fastest swimmer.

The half-moon followed me on my treacherous journey.  Spikes were visible around the once-perfect border of the half-moon.  I heard the sounds of humans and mammals living in the sea tormented in a war, not of their own.  Humans always seem to find a way to injure and kill one another.  They were doing a tremendous job of killing many of our friends who also lived in the sea.   Living in the oceans vast blue waters without fear was essentially impossible.

My much-loved Bjorn was caught and slaughtered in a great tangled net, making me the last of the Merpeople.  I longed for a life where I could help and be a light for others since I had lost my love.  The sea was a constant and sorrowful reminder of him. 

As I got closer to the grey whale pod, I could feel my tired body relax as a sense of peace sank over me.  They knew I would be waiting in Seattle by the Straits of Juan de Fuca.  The male whale would carry me on his back because I had no desire to swim alone for a thousand miles.  I would return to the house along the Bahía Magdalena coast in California. 

I bonded with the whale pod in Baja, California.  After that last migration with my friends, my travels would finally come to a welcome end.  I would become a great sycamore or rainbow tree as my tail would disappear one last time.

After choosing the tree wisely, we will bond as one.

There I will await the day till the horn of Gabriel blows.  I will unite with my lifetime love and be at peace with God.

Until then, I will bestow a limb for the weary stranger to rest.  My branches will always grow low so children can climb me, find shade from the bright sun, and have a sanctuary from harm.  My great leaves will clap with the other trees along the shore.  Watcher of the sea, I will provide a safe place for my whale friends when they migrate and play throughout the winter in the Bahía Magdalena.

The sacred promise Bjorn and I made to the parents of the children, Sam and Sara, when the parents died would be one that I would keep.   We promised to be close to keep an eye on the family so we could do our best to keep them safe during their lifetime.  Excited, tired, and drained of strength by the time I said many goodbyes to the pod, I prepared for the “Bonding With the Tree.” 

I found a medium-age Sycamore tree as close to the house as possible, one where I could also watch the area where the whales, with new calves in tow, would bring the pod.  My life was magical; I was now in my third generation of children from the same family.  The pod was growing old, but still, we exchanged words when the whales would breach.  I loved the new children living in the Simon house. 

The hollow of the sycamore expanded each year, and as it began to die, I knew soon I would rest in heaven with all my clan.

Until that day, I would enjoy a little three-year-old with a long swing on a strong limb.  Her laughter brought dew upon my leaves and overwhelmed me with joy, and we began to talk to one another.  In no time, our conversations became daily occurrences when the weather permitted.  Children, such innocent creatures, said whatever came to their minds.  She was a blessing to me in my old age.  She never even questioned my ability to speak to her.

Occasionally, I would overhear her talking to her young mother about her friend, the sycamore tree.  Her adoring mom would gently swing the wiggling child into her arms and tell her she was glad she had a special friend.  Then she would turn around and smile at me, and I would shake a limb in recognition; after all, her mother and I had been friends much longer.

-JONI CAGGIANO

Joni is an internationally known and published poet, photographer, and author.  She is a co-author of the Amazon #1 bestselling poetry anthology “Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women”, and the upcoming poetry anthology, “Hidden in Childhood” to be released late January 2023 by Literary Revelations.  She is a regular contributor to MasticadoresIndia and a regular contributor to MasticadoresUSA and Spillwords Press NYC, where she has been twice nominated and won Publication of the Month for, “Love Me Like a Luna”, (November 2022).  As a surviving Adult Child of Alcoholics (ACOA), Joni’s blog is Rum and Robots and her complete list of books, anthologies, magazines and contests can be found at Joni Caggiano’s Publications.  Joni’s blog is an effort to help other ACOAs through faith and a strong kinship with nature.  Joni is also a retired nurse.

You can also read her writing on Instagram @jonicaggiano and Twitter @theinnerchild1.

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