Meeting the Atakapan

My forehead was wrinkled from staring through the bug speckled windshield at the highway. My eyes were tired and my back was numb from bouncing as we pulled into the rest area just inside the Texas line. I sat straight and still while my husband edged the big Volvo into a truck parking slot. As the air brakes hissed, I took my seatbelt off and relaxed in my seat. Reaching for a cigarette, I said, "I'll be right back."



Tommy glanced at me and stated "No, I'm going, too. I want to show you something." He removed his seatbelt, pulled his door latch, and climbed down. I laid my cigarette back on the dash, and climbed down into the hot Texas sunshine.



We walked across the parking lot towards a new building. A weedeater hummed in the warm breeze as I followed Tommy towards the building. The neat walkway led up clean steps into a large windowed room filled with racks of Texas travel pamphlets, some snack and drink machines, signs pointing towards the men's and women's rooms and I could see that there was a large back porch. So far, I assumed just another fancy rest stop.



My husband doesn't enjoy the more enlightening parts of travel. He's strictly business and his business is trucking. The history of a certain place, or the interesting geological aspects doesn't necessarily attract him. The significance of this particular stop for him was, surprisingly, for its health appeal. We walked out the windowed doors to the back of the building where I could see a pier snaking a planked pathway through cypress shoots and stumps and tall reeds that swayed in the swampy, black water below.



"This is where I stop and stretch my legs. Look, there are turtles and fish. Sometimes I see "my snake" down there." He pointed over the wooden rail that ran along the sides of the pier.



The pier, in the same style and color as the new building, meandered its way through the swamp. At intervals, there were free standing modules containing written information about the swamp, the plants, snakes, fish and turtles. Some contained information about the logging that was done that almost destroyed the swampy acres. I also learned about the first Europeans and what they found here in the Texas lowlands.



We walked slowly, leaning first right and then left peering over the side into the murky waters to catch a glimpse of the ample wildlife. There was a white crane, standing precariously on one leg, seemingly oblivious to the humans present. I caught a glimpse of movement in the middle of a huge hollowed cypress stump. I tugged at Tommy's sleeve and pointed. We watched, being very still and silent, as something grayish brown appeared. My first thought was we'd gotten lucky enough to see a small bear! But, no, this animal wasn't so glamorous. It was a large coon, its shiny nose glistening in the midday sun. Its location in the stump and our location on the pier made us at just eye level with each other. I hastily adjusted my camera phone and began clicking.



As my husband corrected his steps to follow the coon's path around the big cypress hollow, I snapped away with my camera. Suddenly Tommy exclaims, "Where did he go??"



The coon was absolutely gone from our sight. I explained to Tommy that he'd probably gone down the outside of the old stump and into the water on the opposing side of the tree, where we'd never see him. We chattered about the luck of catching that fellow fooling around just as we were out of the truck fooling around. I began studying each of the remaining modules as Tommy loitered here and there looking for "his snake".



At some point, Tommy passed me to continue to the end of the pier. I stopped at one more module. This one informing the reader of the native tribe that inhabited the area on the arrival of the first Europeans. I usually don't attempt to pronounce Native American names for people, places and things. However, this one did not seem all that complicated. I was actually not even thinking about the pronunciation, and tried it almost mindlessly. I spoke the first and second syllables slowly, then added the third and fourth actually making the sound come out as one, as it should be spoken.



It was at this moment, the very moment the tribal name rolled off my tongue in almost a whisper, I felt suddenly weightless. I felt as if I were floating, as if there was a strong softness suspending me in the hot breeze. I felt as if there were people all around me. It was like the swamp, with its tall limbless trees and spring green plants, had opened its eyes for me. For a few seconds, I could feel the Atakapan. It felt as if I'd called them, and they had responded by opening a portal to let me know they were there. I heard soft voices, men and women speaking at once in a language I didn't recognize, seemingly surrounding me and yet far away. Just outside my range of physical awareness, I saw and felt an older man standing, tanned deeply, with a bare, narrow chest and small body, jet black hair pulled behind his head, and short but muscular in stature, appearing just feet ahead of me, his dark eyes gazing reassuringly into mine. I could almost smell this spirit and others like him in the scent of the swamp, with its rotting trees and stagnant water. I actually knew he was there and I felt the strong presence of the others so strongly and so quickly, and then they were gone. It was just a hot, swampy place with my husband still peering into the water for "his snake".



Of course, I had to tell Tommy about it. I began by telling him, "Now, look, you know full well I haven't been drinking." That statement brought a rather perplexed look from him, without raising his head from its lowered state. I excitedly explained what had just happened to me, to which I got only the same perplexed look. So I said nothing more as we turned and began our short trek back towards the building, passing through it and out to our truck.



We lumbered onto the interstate in our big rig, heading to mid Texas where we would unload. I sat in my seat quietly, wondering about those people. I wondered if this had ever happened to anyone else, and if it would ever happen again to me. I feel I was luckier than that old coon gave me credit for. As for the Atakapan, I do not question that I met them, feeling full of gratitude that I did, I only question why.