only in the winter can you have long, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Sometime in December, Dry Run

Down past Dry Run, a lad don't come back after one of the long runs. Winter's come in real hard, and even if it don't snow so much down there, it's bitter cold, colder'n Excolo, and the ground's frozen into ruts. You can't take 'em full tilt, it ain't safe, but I guess he was wanting to get home. Ain't much need for telling the rest of that story, not with him caught out overnight in the cold. Means they're a rider short, and Elias has me come down to fill in. Won't be for long, he says, but in that way he's got that means there ain't nothing to argue 'bout, cause it's all decided. Boku rides down with me. Says he's got business to see to down south, so he'll come part way with me, but I reckon really it's cause he reckons it ain't safe, and I don't tell him no.

Truth is I reckoned I'd not be sad 'bout getting a break from Excolo, but a week into being at home again there's nothing I want so much as to be up in the attic above the library sleeping in with Boku, or having tea with Miss Miao, or seeing how Johnny is. Hell, I'd about kill for one of Samuel's breakfasts about now. Just about anything but here. Bloody Dry Run.

Weeks of it then. Sure I'm up and down between Excolo and Dry Run, but further south too, doing twice the run cause the bottom leg ain't got no one to run it no more, half the week. 's cruel weather to be doing it, and I feel real sore by the end of the day, and bloody tired too, but there's something to being out in the winter I like. Something to feeling the cold air on you, like it's something solid, when you're riding fast. Boku come over the sea to where we are, I know. Bet it's like this, crossing the ocean, real cold and a strong wind in your face the whole way.

's Christmas, soon, first one I ain't been home for. Mum ain't so keen on that. She's still fussin' over me like I was some kid, even if Elias tells her not to. Like he can tell her what to do. Like he's dad, almost. I don't say nothing, even if I don't like it. Ain't told 'em about the flat I got neither, nor what's in it. I guess that'll sit till after Christmas, and then...

I been thinking, out on the road, how maybe it's best to give stuff to the folks as needs it, and use the stuff as can be used, even if some of it I never thought to touch in my life. No harm learning. No harm doing. And as to keeping things for folk who ain't coming back, like some museum, well, what's that make me? I ain't no museum keeper.

Feels real good to ride fast in the cold air with the road still white in front and behind, and there's none of that if you're waiting to find footprints to follow. Hell, me'n Freya ain't never needed tracks to follow before, and we don't need 'em now.

[closed]

only in the winter can you have long, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Sometime in December, Dry Run

Down past Dry Run, a lad don't come back after one of the long runs. Winter's come in real hard, and even if it don't snow so much down there, it's bitter cold, colder'n Excolo, and the ground's frozen into ruts. You can't take 'em full tilt, it ain't safe, but I guess he was wanting to get home. Ain't much need for telling the rest of that story, not with him caught out overnight in the cold. Means they're a rider short, and Elias has me come down to fill in. Won't be for long, he says, but in that way he's got that means there ain't nothing to argue 'bout, cause it's all decided. Boku rides down with me. Says he's got business to see to down south, so he'll come part way with me, but I reckon really it's cause he reckons it ain't safe, and I don't tell him no.

Truth is I reckoned I'd not be sad 'bout getting a break from Excolo, but a week into being at home again there's nothing I want so much as to be up in the attic above the library sleeping in with Boku, or having tea with Miss Miao, or seeing how Johnny is. Hell, I'd about kill for one of Samuel's breakfasts about now. Just about anything but here. Bloody Dry Run.

Weeks of it then. Sure I'm up and down between Excolo and Dry Run, but further south too, doing twice the run cause the bottom leg ain't got no one to run it no more, half the week. 's cruel weather to be doing it, and I feel real sore by the end of the day, and bloody tired too, but there's something to being out in the winter I like. Something to feeling the cold air on you, like it's something solid, when you're riding fast. Boku come over the sea to where we are, I know. Bet it's like this, crossing the ocean, real cold and a strong wind in your face the whole way.

's Christmas, soon, first one I ain't been home for. Mum ain't so keen on that. She's still fussin' over me like I was some kid, even if Elias tells her not to. Like he can tell her what to do. Like he's dad, almost. I don't say nothing, even if I don't like it. Ain't told 'em about the flat I got neither, nor what's in it. I guess that'll sit till after Christmas, and then...

I been thinking, out on the road, how maybe it's best to give stuff to the folks as needs it, and use the stuff as can be used, even if some of it I never thought to touch in my life. No harm learning. No harm doing. And as to keeping things for folk who ain't coming back, like some museum, well, what's that make me? I ain't no museum keeper.

Feels real good to ride fast in the cold air with the road still white in front and behind, and there's none of that if you're waiting to find footprints to follow. Hell, me'n Freya ain't never needed tracks to follow before, and we don't need 'em now.

[closed]

Evening of Thursday, the Twenty-Fourth of December

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Christmas Eve Day

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NIV)


The crowd is better to-day, I think, than any crowd we have had since the church first opened its doors. Something about holidays always seems to bring people out--even if it is as cold as it has been lately. There is a collection of blankets and toys and gifts off to the side and I am touched by the giving nature of this community.

I tell the Christmas story, read from the Bible but with added information from other readings, and watch as some of those in attendance appear to be hearing the story for the first time. I remember the first time I heard it, myself, and I smile. Or, rather, the first time I remember hearing it, as my father read it to us every Christmas. The most memorable, I think, was the last. I smile at the congregation and lead them in prayer, then thank them for coming. No time to dwell on my own past. There is the present to celebrate.

I remind them of the luncheon tomorrow and leave the front, taking the chance to mingle with the people. My people.


[OPEN.]

Evening of Thursday, the Twenty-Fourth of December

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Christmas Eve Day

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NIV)


The crowd is better to-day, I think, than any crowd we have had since the church first opened its doors. Something about holidays always seems to bring people out--even if it is as cold as it has been lately. There is a collection of blankets and toys and gifts off to the side and I am touched by the giving nature of this community.

I tell the Christmas story, read from the Bible but with added information from other readings, and watch as some of those in attendance appear to be hearing the story for the first time. I remember the first time I heard it, myself, and I smile. Or, rather, the first time I remember hearing it, as my father read it to us every Christmas. The most memorable, I think, was the last. I smile at the congregation and lead them in prayer, then thank them for coming. No time to dwell on my own past. There is the present to celebrate.

I remind them of the luncheon tomorrow and leave the front, taking the chance to mingle with the people. My people.


[OPEN.]