10:9

The beaver, it seems, has gone for good. Meredith glanced around the empty loft that, other than the stack of blankets and old tack by the window, was exactly as it was 6 months ago before the beaver had mystically appeared over by the coulee.

Winter and spring had come and gone and summer looked to be starting to fade. It seemed she was alone again. She was going to miss that cheeky little bugger; he had had this twinkle that had made her smile. Still made her smile when she thought about it. It had been a good summer; the best in a lot of years and for some reason it had been a healing one. A lot of the old fears and doubts somehow seemed a bit less jagged, still there, but less… obtrusive; like they’d been planed down to remove the splinters and rough edges but still left the grain and gouges to bravely pronounce their history, a visible reminder, but no longer marring the beauty they contributed to.

It had been a long time since I’ve felt this good, Meredith mused as she carefully walked down the steep stairs. I really ought to do something with it.

Outside the sun was low in the west and the sharp shadows animated the yard and buildings, staging a lovely pantomime across the empty space in front of her. She could see her father and mother coming back from the barn holding hands and swinging the galvanized bucket of fresh milk between them. From the gap between the shop and the chicken coop the old combine was trundling into the yard after a long day of ceaseless labour, signally another successful harvest and the hope of enough money to make it through the winter. Over by the old corral, the children climbed up the stack of bales, occasionally sending one tumbling down, much to the consternation of the hired hand by his shack who knew he would be the one to have to fix the stack in the morning.

In those dusky black shadows and rays of golden light, the old place was alive again, like it hadn’t been in decades. It’s funny, up until now I hadn’t much missed any of that. This old place had been her fortress of solitude for so long. Other than that brief and bitter interlude with… with Barney… I’ve been alone, and I thought I liked it that way. As a small cluster of clouds, high up in the western sky moved swiftly across the sun, the shadow play faded to black and was wiped clean, leaving a filmy gray curtain across the buildings and old motionless equipment that moments ago had been alive in her imagination.

Meredith, leaned back against the faded old wood of the shop’s doorframe staring blankly at the yard. Her mind drifted until, a few moments later, she watched as the sun reappeared, lighting up the canvas, bring the actors back to the stage but somehow, subtly, resetting the scene.

It iss time for a new scene, Meredith thought to herself. It’s time for a little forward momentum in my life.