We would like to share another contribution to our farm blog from writer Bill Crisp...Enjoy!
It was Christmas Day but Eb was alone; he had chosen that. He was
lonely but he had chosen that, too. The sound of bells and carols,
“Noel”, trickled up from the valley following the flicker from
occasional glimpses of colored lights below under the crown of a
constant hue. As he shuffled quietly through the snow, he rarely looked
back or even up. When he did it was only occasionally, looking up to
squint through the big falling snowflakes to pick out a route under the
cathedral of trees and casting a quick look behind, subconsciously,
checking his tracks…and his back trail, more out of habit than need.
Somewhere, back there in the din of town was his brother, Sam, his last
remaining family, hosting a party. Eb had been invited but didn’t even
bother to respond, it wasn’t just that he didn’t like parties but also
he hadn’t talked to his brother since his last deployment with the Army.
Being over there had changed Eb but what occurred at home had changed
him more. His father had passed on this night, last year, while he was
away. In the aftermath, Eb, was not happy about how Sam handled things
in his absence. So, he strode on and did not look back after he crossed
the ridge and dropped into the next valley and then another.
Eb hadn’t needed “Christmas” or much of anything else for a long time
now. Instead, he was going to do a little camping to small game hunt and
trap. His plan was to camp on this evening of the 25th then start
hunting on the 26th of December. After he found a place and set up he
sat down by his small fire, twisted open a bottle of his newest best
friend, said, “Merry Christmas” to it and swigged a good slug back. Then
he reached up to a place on his chest, just under his neck line to rub
an item that wasn’t there anyway. He shook his head and took another
swig and as he tipped his head back he noticed a glimpse of a light up
the far hill and he thought he could almost hear a jingle. “Funny” he
thought, “There’s no road up there and surely no one else would be out
tonight. Maybe it is a star.” It flickered again. He chuckled out a,
“Bah, humbug! What are next; three ghosts and an angel?” He paused,
reached for the necklace that wasn’t there again and listened. For a
second, he thought the air pressed as if an answer was about to come. He
shook his head, laughed and mumbled, “There ain’t no such thing as
miracles.”
It might seem minor to others, a simple necklace, especially one that
has no jewels, gold or silver but to him it had meant everything. It was
his “mojo”, his “medicine”. His Dad had given it to him when he was
twelve as a good luck charm that had seemed to work. It wasn’t an idol
but, as his Dad told him, it was a prayer vessel that connected them.
The simple rawhide strung through a bullet case and a bear claw had seen
him through times thick and thin. He had worn it faithfully growing up
hunting, before sports events and even with his dog tags in war. He only
took it off to send home to his father when he had heard that he’d
struck ill. When he came home, his brother told him he didn’t know what
had happened to it, it had just disappeared. Sam also had a bullet
necklace so he should have understood what it meant, he should have sent
it back, at the least, he should have kept it safe. “What does it
matter?” Eb thought, “The silly thing didn’t work anyway.” Then another
glimmer from the hill, like a star and the chime like jingle from the
hill but far too low, definitely in the woods…
“What the hell? Maybe Santa got shot down,” Eb sarcastically thought as
he got up and threw his overcoat on, “I’ll just go up and see if he
needs any help.” As he started up the hill, he figured what he was going
to find was an attractor at a bobcat trap. It seemed to him that he’d
never find a place to hunt alone and he’d never find peace. The glint of
light must be off the moon but the “star” was so bright…he climbed on.
As he got close, the “star” had become concealed but he was drawn in
the last few yards by the jingling sound. He carefully moved into a
large tall tree. Eb was right, there were no wise men, no sleigh, no
angels, and no ghosts just…three bullets bound together and hanging from
rawhide. Eb gasped, “No.” He looked around and then tentatively reached
up and pulled down the collection of three engraved bullets that had
been dangling from a branch...There was aged, red ribbon hanging off
them. Sure enough, on each case were engraved initials, his, his
father’s and his brother’s. Hesitantly, he popped off the bullet seated
in the top of his case and as had been a custom; inside was a note! He
carefully pulled out the slip of paper kept safely inside, he unrolled
it and read, “Dear Eb, Dad is too weak to write but wanted me to pass
along his thanks but that this bullet is yours, only. It was your gift.
We have been his gifts and that’s all he wants. Please take this back
and take his from Grandpa and come home safely. Merry Christmas.
P.S.-I’m sending you mine too, Love, Bro.”
Eb looked up to the sky and smirked, “A miracle, an angel or a ghost?”
he asked rhetorically. The cynic looked around, and then squinted
through the snow and then up into the tree. There, he saw other metallic
objects scattered and dangling under a large nest, a crow’s nest. Of
course, crows love to steal shiny objects and bring them to their nests.
These bullets were somehow grabbed up by a bird endeared to the shine
of the cases. The note was real. What are the odds that these would end
up here, now, that the light hit them just right, that…? Then, thinking
some more, Eb just put his head down for a long time. He took a knee.
Passing elliptical eyes may have noted an occasional heave and shrug of
his shoulders. Finally, Eb rose, turned on his heel and started back, it
would be a long walk and he’d be late but he would make it to his
brother’s party and that wouldn’t take a miracle…
Merry Christmas!
First published 12/13/2009 shared with permission from William Crisp!
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