The young man was tired. He was tired in his soul. He had lived his life in this city. Grown up, made friends, gave his heart to a woman, had it given back…in pieces. Now, after his 27th birthday, he had reached the end of himself. He was born and raised in the foot hills of the Carolina's. The Piedmont... He had laughed at such a name as a child. He later learned it meant "foothill"; appropriate for the area…only a short 1-2 hour drive to where his family roots were buried deep.
He used to revel in stories he heard from his father and his father's family. He heard the stories of The People, before the white man, the first days of living in peace and then the dark times when the white man needed more; MUCH more. But, as with most of us, he grew up.
As he grew, his Grandfather began to tell him more about The People. He told the older stories of their creation, more of the theology that went