Last night, looking to delay for a moment the inevitable pre-bedtime bath, G/Son wandered into my ritual room and picked up the fairy door on my altar. "Nonna, why fairies don't like people coming into their houses?"
I replied, "Well, I think they like their privacy; we wouldn't like it if people just wandered into our house right now, would we?"
G/Son said, "No," and picked up my sheathed athame, something that's been fascinating him his last few visits. He said, "Nonna, why at Halloween, you give witches three pieces of candy?" [All the other trick-or-treaters get two.]
I explained, "Well, I'm a Witch, and I really like witches."
G/Son: "Nonna, you're not a real witch." [We've had this talk before. Kids being kids, we'll keep coming back to it until G/Son works it out.]
Nonna: "Yes, I am, but I'm a different kind of Witch from the mean ones in stories. I'm a Witch because I honor the Earth. OK, if we hurry up our bath, we'll have time for some popcorn and one more Scooby Doo."
This morning, as we were driving back to G/Son's house, he noticed the gauge in my car that shows when the electric battery is charging up and when it's assisting the motor. At first, he thought it was the gauge for gasoline and that we were running out. I explained what it was and how the electric battery helped the car to use less gasoline and that this was good because gasoline pollutes, so I try to use as little of it as I can. I told him that my car is called a "hybrid" car.
G/Son: "Why you don't want to pollute?"
Nonna: "Because I am always trying to honor the Earth."
Silence for a bit. [I am certain G/Son is working on my explanation of how some plants are called hybrids and how a car can be a hybrid, too. I am pretty damn proud of what an intellectual influence I am on this kid.]
G/Son: "So you're a Witch because you drive a hybrid."
Nonna: "That's right."
Or, it's the other way around, but that's close enough for now. We'll save the whole "broomstick discussion" for another day.
As we were pulling into his driveway I said, "Your car is a hybrid, too." G/Son said, "No, Nonna. It's a Toyota. Daddy told me." No one in the world can remind me of how very much too seriously I take myself as fast as this golden-haired kid with freckles and Elvish blood.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."