Quotation contest

1,750 words

Scrubbing a roughened hand over his weathered face, Samuel Grey collapses back onto the faded blue couch and stretches his long legs out in front of him. The fireplace in front of him crackled warmth into the room and the mirror over the mantle showed his rather wrinkled face and several locks of his thick gray hair with black flecks streaked throughout it hanging over his creased forehead. His eyes were still a crystal clear blue despite his age and his skin was constantly a dark tan due to his Indian heritage. He stood at 6’6 with a lanky yet strong frame that intimidated most of the people he ran into. Turning his head slightly to the window closest him and the darkening night sky outside, he rested his head back contemplating.
The sharp wind was beating against the old cabin; he could hear some of the old trees groaning their protests to the driving wind, their branches covered in ice, the snow that once sat so comfortably on their limbs scattering with the wind in all directions. The sun was just disappearing from the horizon, the pinks and oranges briefly making the sky into a beautiful watercolor before someone throws black into the mix, the darkness of night slowly coloring over the vibrant colors of the day.
He had just returned to his homeland in North Carolina a few weeks ago at the age of 50 and it was nearing the end of March, hopefully this was going to be the last snow storm of the year. He’d grown up in the small town and left it and his family behind nearly as soon as he had graduated, having saved up money from various summer jobs he’d worked over the years. He had a younger sister that looked much like him except a shorter feminine version having the same blue eyes and dark tan skin, her hair was still completely black though. Ginidoda passed away ten years ago and E’tsi passed 5 years after him, she was American and he was Cherokee, we took more after Ginidoda but it was sad to see them both go.
He hadn’t started out with much, but he’d slowly accumulated more as he traveled around the globe visiting different states and regions of the world. He’d never settled into a happily married life as his family had wished for him, he’d always been a restless spirit never finding much contentment no matter where in the world he went, so he’d returned home in hopes of finding what he was searching for here.
When he was younger he’d been a wild buck, his hair had been nearly to his waist falling in a thick black mass, usually hanging free but occasionally in a thick braid when he needed it out of his face. He’d managed to get into several tumbles and scraps with the whites at his school; either defending his sister or another girl there. His family had been disappointed when he had decided not to follow the tribes’ path like his sister was, but he didn’t want to be shackled down into the old times, never seeming to realize then how relaxing the ‘old times’ could be.
With his older age creeping up, even though he didn’t feel old, he didn’t have the same urge to run around and cause havoc as he was once so prone to do. He found he actually wanted the solitude and now that he took time to sit and look around, he was realizing home was the best place to find that. Adjusting himself, he props his feet up on the edge of the handmade coffee table  that was a little ways in front of the couch and crosses his hands over his chest letting out a heavy sigh as he shifts his view from the window to the blazing fireplace. One of the logs he’d just put in slid down sending up a shower of sparks and more soft crackling could be heard as the flames licked greedily over the piece of wood, eager to burn higher and hotter than before.
The small black phone sitting near the edge of the table started to buzz towards the edge while playing Beethoven’s fifth, distracting him from the fire to let him know that someone was calling him. Grudgingly pushing himself up from the couch, his knees popping as he stands, with a grunt he leans over and picks it up not sure of the number but answering anyway.
“Osiyo?” His gruff voice answers as he flips the razor, dwarfed in his hands, open bringing it up to his ear.
“Oh…hello? I’m so sorry…I must have the wrong number.” A sultry, but confused, woman’s voice reaches him.
“Wait! Wait…I speak English, this is Samuel Grey.” He says with a chuckle. “Who am I speaking with?”
“Oh…that’s right I forgot you were part Indian…” She mutters seemingly to herself before answering him, “I’m Dahlila Samuelson.” She says her gorgeous voice causing a shiver of delight to run through his body, a hint of embarrassment in her tone now.
“What can I do for you Dahlila?” He says, liking how the name rolls off his tongue.
“Well, your sister told me you were back in town and the school you all attended is going to have a reunion for the class you graduated in next week, it’s my job to call around and see who all is planning to attend.” She says.
“Ah, I’d be more than happy to attend.” He says, scratching his 5 o’clock shadow while imagining seeing Dahlila there.
“Great! I’ll see you there then.” She says with zest a hopeful up beat note in her voice now as they exchange good bye’s and hang up.
Perhaps she was looking forward to seeing him as well? He didn’t remember her from high school, but maybe that would change once he saw her. The next week and a half went slowly by as he waited for the night of the reunion to get here. He spent his time by wondering about the mysterious woman, praying to Yehowaah, and wheedling away at different chunks of wood carving different statues that came to his mind and flowed through his nimble fingers and knife onto the wood.
Finally, the night of the reunion was upon him. His hair was held back with an old thin piece of leather and he’d dressed in a tan button up shirt, faded blue jeans and moccasins; opting to walk there in the crisp but beautiful dusk and dawning night rather than drive. Of course, he owned a car and in the past he most assuredly would have driven it, but he found the peaceful night was much more calming these days and he pondered on that and the woman until he reached the school.
The old cracked black pavement, which probably hadn’t been re-done since he was a student, was covered with cars right up to the three story red brick building that had three rows of windows going up and four windows going across the width of the building on every. Heading up to the door he held it open, letting another couple walk in ahead of him, before he joined in behind them strolling towards the large gymnasium that housed all of the visitors from his graduating class.
The beginning of the reunion had several random announcements and then everyone mingled and some danced, getting to know everyone again and see how much better their life had turned out in accordance to their old classmates. He found he had done much better career wise than most of the people there though he was sorely lacking in the relationship department and most of the women, who were married, gave him looks that were mixtures of yearning and pity.
Sighing, his thumb and forefinger rubbed at the tight bridge of his nose in slight irritation before glancing around the room again. He’d nearly giving up looking for afore mentioned Dahlila when he saw her; don’t ask how he knew it was her, he just knew. Something clicked the moment he saw her and he slowly started walking toward her, ignoring the people he was bumping into on his way there, quiet murmurs of protest heard as he parted through the crowd each step bringing him closer to his old memories of her running around as a younger teen, funny he’d never realized she was this beautiful then. She was wearing a beautiful crimson dress that fell to the middle of her shapely calves the edges slightly frilly; she still had beautiful chestnut hair and he knew when she turned and looked at him her eyes would be the same beautiful brown.
Resting a hand on her shoulder as he comes up behind her, he nods to the men she was talking before smiling down at her face that had turned to look at who was touching her, watching as a look of recognition crosses her eyes before a smile lights up her face.
“Samuel! I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.” Dahlila says, giving a brief wave to the dejected men turning to leave as she turns to give Samuel a hug her head only coming up to the middle of his chest.
“I have to admit, I didn’t remember you over the phone; it’s all coming back to me now though.” He says his grin holding a slightly rakish look to it as he takes advantage of the hug to sweep her into a dance.
The hours flew by as they danced, talked, and laughed her smile and embrace lighting up the night for him. He’d managed to keep her to himself the rest of the evening and by the end of the night he had her phone numbers and they had a date planned for the upcoming weekend as well as promises to see each other as often as possible.
He could definitely get used to this, he thought, as he sat on his porch in an old faded blue rocker; a wooden pipe hanging from between his lips as he rocked slowly and watched the stars. The crisp night air had a slight sting to it on his cheeks, whipping at his light jacket and carrying the small circles of smoke he puffed out away on the breeze. A small grin brought up the corners of his lips as the realization dawned that he had finally found what he’d been searching for.