Attracting the Moth

Boys and dance floors are like oil and water, most times. But when a pretty girl enters the room fear of moving gracefully across the dance floor, in boots made for working, seems to fade. 

Now I’m not saying they suddenly become Fred Astaire, they might think they do. But to “that girl” they get the nerve up to ask, well, they are.

And it doesn’t matter the age. When a fella sees “that girl”…that one girl…and she catches him working on gaining his nerve…well the air between them is lightening across the sky, or in this case the dance floor.

The dress the McCabe girl came in tonight could cause a lightning strike. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not one of those get- ups that leave “nothing to the imagination”…just the opposite. And any red blooded man will tell you, that’s the trick. Stopped the young lawyer dead in his tracks. He didn’t know what hit him. Or, maybe he did.

The beauty of a true country girl is that their beauty radiates whether they are in a pair of Levi’s or dressed to the hilt for Sunday church. 

The difference being...the freedom they feel in that whirl across the floor and igniting the flame that attracts the moth.

A Cow, by Any Other Name…

Those faces look as though you just interrupted some secret meeting. Intruded on some event that you weren’t invited to. Just like she’s done all her life, she sees past the indifference with those who would look down upon her and joins right in. These bovine, however don’t have the same sharp tongues of the herd she’s riled over the years. 

She feels right at home standing in that pasture, checking on them, conversing with those who tend them daily. Farmers around here accepted her almost immediately. It says something when someone trusts you with their livelihood. Says a lot about Dr. Jessica McCabe and the old man that raised her...a lot. 

Peaceful, Serene, …Almost Untouched

The day they found him in the ravine it shattered the innocence of our town. We went to a place that no one dreamed. 

Whispers, accusations and the silence of the authorities did not help to quell the rumbling fear.

Shock turned to sadness when we woke to the news that Maggie had died. As if our little town needed another wound. Her baby survived and became the hope for Jonas and Ann. Salve to a raw hurt that would never quite heal. Truth be told that little one’s spirit carried many through some tough times. 

Kids play here now, people hike, some even bird watch. A veil of time pulled over this place, has now stirred with the wind of a tragic past. 

They say time heals all things…but a pain this deep sometimes goes within, festers, eats at the one who carries it. And, unknown to most, he carried the scars of more than one tragedy.