“Well, the thing is, I don't think Indians are nomadic anymore. Most indians anyway.'
No, we're not,' I said
I'm not nomadic,' Rowdy said. 'Hardly anybody on this rez is nomadic. Except for you. You're the nomadic one.'
Whatever.'
No. I'm serious. I always knew you were going to leave. I always knew you were going to leave us behind and travel the world. I had this dream about you a few months ago. You were standing on the Great Wall of China. You looked happy. And I was happy for you.'
Rowdy didn't cry. But I did.
You're an old-time nomad,' Rowdy said. 'You're going to keep moving all over the world in search of food and water and grazing land. That's pretty cool.'
I could barely talk.
Thank you,' I said.
Yeah,' Rowdy said. 'Just make sure you send me postcards, you asshole.'
From everywhere,' I said.
I would always love Rowdy. And I would always miss him, too. Just as I would always love and miss my grandmother, my big sister, and Eugene.
Just as I would always love and miss my reservation and my tribe.
I hoped and prayed that they would someday forgive me for leaving them.
I hoped and prayed that I would someday forgive myself for leaving them.”
―
Sherman Alexie,
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
