Heartnotes

     It was dark, hot, and muggy, and I had driven by myself deep into the woods on a dirt road in Oklahoma to find the secret dance. My heart thudded in my chest and my hands gripped the steering wheel. I was trying to find the courage to face the snakes that my delirious mind believed were lurking in the bushes, just waiting for me to step out of the car.      I was in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, and had driven there to attend the Cherokee Festival and to meet in person my Cherokee language teacher, Mr. Ed Fields, and his family.      It was a day filled with arts and crafts, food, and lots of activities to entertain the children. The elders sat underneath a big white arbor trying to stay cool with makeshift fans. I was greeted with warm smiles and withered hands outstretched from many people eager to say hello. One of the grandmothers that hugged me grabbed my cheeks, recognizing me as a Cherokee. It was something about the bone structure of my face, she said. It felt deliciously exc