It is a memory that I hope to take with me to my grave. It was a crystal-clear morning and the sun was just about to reach its peak over the Black Hills of South Dakota. From time to time, by breath came out in little wisps as I walked. The scene before me was a feast for the eyes. Golden hills stretched seemingly endlessly towards the horizon, kissing the sky with its long blades of prairie grass. We were the only humans to be seen within a thirty mile radius. The world was are playground.

On my left hand side, H giggled with glee as she gripped my mitten-clad hand. In hear eagerness, she often tripped and I almost seemed to be carrying her with my one arm, preventing her from falling. On my left, W clung to her beloved teacher. The high pony-tail I gave her earlier that morning swung side to side as we tromped through the hills. In front on me E blazed the path. She was confident in her movement, her stride suggesting that she was much older than 12. M, so much like me when I was her age, defiantly took the most laborious path, jumping from bolder to bolder and refusing any help when at all possible. She embraced the road less traveled. Completing our ensemble was my little warrior,T, who was making revving noises like a truck. He raced back and forth, round and round. Working double duty as the sun during the night and a car during the day, T was a fireball of energy. He embodies all that is good about children, a hunger to explore, a sense of adventure, innocence, compassion and a good imagination. I have talked with mom about arranging to have my future daughter marry him.

The six of us spent a few glorious hours together, walking through the country, tackling a primitive rope swing, trekking around an enormous porcupine the fondly christened "Porky" and gallivanting through the hills. I felt so alive and part of something so much bigger as I zipped up their stubborn zippers, gave up my mittens to fingers more worthy than mine and practically dragged the younger ones up the hill as their sense of adventure outlasted the strength in their feet. I hope to never forget the image of all five them running up that final hill, their waist-long golden hair in beautiful disarray and their smiles broad. I could scarcely breathe at the sight. At that moment the world--no, our world--seemed perfect.

I have included a picture of Red Hawk, a great Oglala leader. I find it very moving that today, five of his descendents roamed the same hills in this photo, land he was willing to die for. In realitiy, the spirit of the Lakota people was seen today in all its glory.