11 of 12 Four Strong Winds

[KB.]

This leads into "I'm free from the chain gang". I'm cashed out for the night, haha puns suck. I'm not even going to look at it after I post, so forgive any grammatical errors.



Patrick struggled hard to keep the old Harley straight in the strong crosswinds. The wind felt like it was blowing from all four directions and they were meeting to wage war right where he was located. He had turned north to Alberta shortly after leaving the city. He wondered if things could ever change. He wondered if there were still old friends in Alberta he could find work with. Patrick found himself fast approaching another crossroads; as he slowed down to stop the wind suddenly quieted its battle with the other sides of itself. He looked around, thought for a moment, looked left, and turned the bike back the way he had just come from. There is always a first time for everything. Rules are meant to be broken, and whatnot. He had ridden a long time in the wrong damn direction; imagine that. The space between was needed he supposed. South always trumps north; every time. He saw the snow as it fell softly from the atmosphere; it looked pure, clean. He felt washed.

Jonas woke up next to someone for the first time in what seemed like an era. He had been blessed with the chance to also fall asleep next to someone the night before. The warmth of the situation made his limp far less frustrating; and the wince far less noticeable. Rose was still asleep next to him, he rolled out of bed as quietly as he could manage and went to fix her a glass of water. Simple things like this done for another had been a rare delight the last few years. This felt like home. Jonas walked back towards the warm bed and put his hand on Roses’ shoulder; gently prompting her from what ever color filled dream she was having. “I have one last trip to make sweet Rose of my heart. This time you are going with me; so go pack, warm and cool things, we will probably need them both. “Where are we going Jonas, I thought you let that old burdensome boulder roll back down the mountain finally. “One last trip jellybean, you know what I mean?

Rose smiled at the name, and nodded her head at her old friend. She got out of bed and walked to the closet to find the proper attire for the “one last trip. “So who are you running after this time? “We have to go find Patrick, and we have to catch him before he turns down the wrong road. Give him some directions. “Well Jonas, we will have to find Kate as well, Patrick isn’t the only one lost right now. “That’s the plan; let’s hope the prayers for one more mile, and one more smile find their way to an open ear. “They usually do Jonas.

Patrick could feel the air grow warmer with every mile marker he passed; more Southern. He wanted to push his old ride as fast as it would allow him, but he held the throttle back, getting there quick would be no good if he got there dead. He felt like he was headed in the right direction at least, even if it wasn’t at a hundred miles an hour.

Kate sat uneasily in her Mother’s front porch swing. All she needed was a mint julep and the picture would be straight from a Faulkner novel. She was Southern fried confusion made incarnate at this moment. Wil was inside sleeping peacefully on his grandmother’s lap. He had called his daddy, but no one was there. Patrick had come through though and called Wil himself. He had listened all about sad sounding train whistles, and lonely trips. Patrick had not talked to anyone else but Wil. It bothered her more than she had imagined it would. She found herself once again calling his name in a whisper stolen away by a warm Georgia breeze. She needed him here, no matter how much she said she didn’t. He was a good man, and he did love her so very much. It was easy to see, even from this far away, no matter how long it had been. He missed his son; and she wanted him to have that child to hold in his own arms, make that dream real again. She looked over as the screen door opened and Wil walked out and climbed into her lap. The wind was picking up, a storm was coming. The breeze seemed to come from all directions, then it suddenly stopped and it started to blow in from the north. Fast and cold, like it was on a mission from God to get a message delivered post haste.

Patrick felt like he had been in shackles; guarded, but that suddenly the earth had swallowed up his captors, and shook the chains loose from him. The cold rain that had once again pelted his face and accused him of being in need of a cleansing had stopped and the sun came out to visit for awhile.

KB

[KB.]

I'm going to smoke; again, and print these out. then shower for work. I'll check again before I leave.