Kiva
The Family
Lighthouse: Compassionate guide, lover of wisdom, keeper of balance.
Little One: Eternal innocent, all-forgiving, pure of heart.
Shank: Wounded, bitter, cruel.
Dreamer: Generative, intuitive, visionary.
Foreman: Linear, practical, wary of change.
Watchdog: Hypervigilant, loyal, dreads condemnation.
Flame: Passionate, fun-loving, reckless.
*********************
“Flame. Flame! Please pay attention.”
“Not now, I’m busy.”
“I’m calling Kiva.”
“What? Again? We just had one. Tell you what, you all go ahead without me.”
“Not how it works. And I need your promise to stay till the end.”
“Fine, whatever.”
“I’ll fetch the family.”
Foreman is first to arrive, followed by Watchdog, leading Little One by the hand. Shank slopes in, hands jammed in his pockets.
Lighthouse, to Foreman, “Better fetch Dreamer. And be sure to wake her gently.”
“Got it, boss.”
He’s back moments later, his arm over Dreamer’s shoulder.
Yawning, she rubs wide-set eyes. “I was having the most beautiful…”
“Sorry dear, this is important. I believe we’re due for Kiva, and as usual, would appreciate your help.”
“Now?” Dreamer glances around her, studies each face and nods. “I see. Well, you all know the drill. Link hands, eyes closed…
The patterned rug at their feet dissolves; rounded walls of mud spring up, topped by wooden beams; below, a floor of packed earth; propped against an opening in the roof, a rough-hewn ladder.
Dreamer sighs, turns to Flame. “The rest is you, brother.”
Approaching the firepit, he sits on his haunches, cups mounded kindling between his hands. A spark ignites, flames lick the splintered end of a log.
“Thank you both, and thank you all for coming.” Lighthouse gestures toward the floor. “Please sit, everyone. Now let’s take a moment, consider why we’re here, and bring to mind our intentions.”
Time passes.
“Thank you. As you may have noticed, the balance of power between us has been… tested of late.”
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Flame: “Meaning me, of course. What am I, the identified patient? This is about all of us, remember?”
“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean…”
“If I may,” Forman raises a hand. “Yesterday, in the kitchen? That square of chocolate we all signed off on? How exactly did that turn into six?”
“Flame rises to his knees, joins his hands in prayer, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
“You forgetting something? This is us, we all get to live in this body. You know what caffeine does to our nerves, our judgement. Some people gorge on chocolate and go right to sleep. That’s not us, brother.”
“Must be hard. Living in fear of the tiniest mess. A dose of chaos might do you…”
Shank, interrupting: “Like the man said. Cut him some slack.”
Foreman rolls his eyes. “Great, another anarchist. You guys like having a roof over your heads, food on the table? None of that happens without rules, discipline.”
“Damn right,” says Watchdog, eyeing Flame. I’m tracking you, brother. I see you getting sloppy with the treats. Want to take us all down, do you? And your so-called friends, think they don’t see what’s happening? Keep it up, they’ll cut you off.”
Flame comes to his feet, drops his pants, squats over the fire and cuts a huge fart. The fire roars to life. Flame zips his pants to loud applause from Shank, giggles from Dreamer.
“Enough of this shit. I need some air.” He takes hold of the ladder, begins climbing.
Lighthouse comes to his feet, “Flame! You promised to stay till we’re done.”
Dreamer approaches, takes hold of Flame’s wrist. “Foreman is just looking out for us, it’s what he does. And he’s got a point. No one’s trying to cramp your style. But yesterday, that yogurt, cheese, dried fruit on top of chocolate?”
“Little bits of each. Totally in control.”
“Really? We were there, remember? And Little One. So scared she was shaking. Twenty years in recovery… that’s worth something. Why risk it? Look, I hate dredging up the past but you nearly killed us all.”
Shank butts in. “Bro, you going to let that… girl tell you what to do? Last I heard, it’s a free coun…”
“Shut it, Shank.” Flame backs down the ladder, approaches Little One and kneels. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She stands motionless, face hidden in a fold of dreamer’s gown.
Flame turns to Foreman. “The freaking routine, man, it never ends, and how you micromanage every little… I can’t breathe.”
“I get it, Flame.” Lighthouse steps between them. “But we need you, brother. Who’s going to burn off the deadwood, feed new life? He pauses, sighs. “And what Foreman said? He speaks for all of us. Last night, after that… treat, everyone’s sleep was miserable. Which affects today: follow-through on work, time with people we love. It’s simple. Healthy families run on trust.”
“Meaning…?”
“Ground rules. No one’s asking you to give up treats, but chocolate after dark, cause you’re bored, or sad? That kind of fire set loose… It’s lethal. You have a gift, brother. Use it for something beautiful, bigger than you.”
“So. No chocolate at home. Fair enough. But at special times, out with friends, before workouts? I get to choose.”
Lighthouse, turning in place, reads each face. “All in favor?”
Foreman: “I can work with that.”
Watchdog: “Likewise.”
Dreamer: To Flame, I trust you, brother.”
Shank: “Whatever.”
Little One lets go of Dreamer’s hand, goes to Flame and wraps him around his waist.
Lighthouse: “I believe we have consensus.” Turning to Dreamer, he nods once.
Breathing deep, she lifts her arms high, sweeps them slowly down. Faint stars appear in their wake, and low in the east, an orange glow.
September, 2025
