Later On In The Evening

"My mama always said, 'Dance anyway!'"

Big Bertha looked from face to face to see who disagreed. Not her husband Little Mac, who said, "Your mama always knew just what to do." Not her grandson Noah or his canine friend Sir Barksalot, who already were dancing around each other waiting for the music to begin. Nor even her daughter Delilah, who could summon no more than the ghost of a smile.

"Right then," said Big Bertha. "Off we go!"

With a triple tap of her toe, she unlimbered her elbow and brought her fiddle and her family to life, to fiercesome fullsome joyful life there in the living room where they had cleared the furniture away.

Later on in the evening, when everything outside that was white had turned blue, the matriarch eased the tempo.

"Now settle down," she said, "and gather round, and Mac, my darlin', gie us Farewell to Tarwathie. You do remember the tune?"

"Aye."

"And the words?"

"As long as it's not Waterloo and that damned fool who lost it, I believe I may acquit myself honourably."

And so he could. Though age had knocked some of his stuffing out and jarred the rest, his voice was still as sweet and full as was his humbled heart, with all the power to soothe the savage beast, inside or out, that any voice had ever had. Sir Barksalot rested his head on his paws and looked up at his humans all round the fire with soulful eyes. On the piano bench, Delilah held Noah in her lap, his little warmth kindling her greater one and her ghost of a smile gathering way as her dear father crooned and her dear mother's fiddle dreamed.

Outside what was blue became black and the nor'easter that would take out their power by morning began to arrive.

Inside, as the last note relinquished itself into silence, a peacefulness reigned that the storm would not threaten at all.


8 March 2018
Texas Jim
Prospect, Nova Scotia
www.granitecoast.ca