Even As We Breathe

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Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle. Even As We Breathe

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EVEN AS WE BREATHE

A Novel

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I was also one of the few who recognized old man Tsa Tsi’s capuchin monkey, Edgar, simply by the way the tree branches bent overhead. Tsa Tsi, or George (his English name), was one of those fixture characters many of us have known in our childhood. He was a man who never seemed to age nor would ever die. As a child, I was perpetually nervous in his presence, fearful he could see deep to the root of my motivations and ambitions and judge them ceaselessly without saying a word. One sideways glance from the old man and I was transformed. I never actually saw him move from one place to the other, now that I think about it. I can’t recall when or how I met him or when I decided we should go on conversing like lifelong friends. Of course, there were lots of folks like that back then. Formal introductions weren’t needed. Just like I never introduced myself to the stream below my house or my great-aunts that I saw maybe once or twice in my lifetime. Some things, some people just seem to always have existed within our own sphere of being, indefinable by common terms of friendship or familial relationship. Just people, peopling our world. And of course, I still laugh to think that such an apathetic man cared for a ridiculous monkey named Edgar. But as a child, it all made perfect sense.

Edgar’s leap caused the limbs of the trees to dip much lower than a squirrel’s jump, though he was also far less clumsy than the local woodland flyers. He made very little noise. Tsa Tsi insisted it was because he was deaf. I wasn’t so sure about that because I couldn’t figure how a monkey could survive the panthers if he couldn’t hear them sneaking up on him. I’ve never heard that monkeys have a strong sense of smell. I’m pretty certain Edgar was quiet because Edgar had to be quiet. To survive. I know a little something about that.

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