Windchimes

A whole day of relaxing, enjoying life on the Tuchuk plains had left me in a far better mood than I had been in several hands. I was still fatigued but a good night's sleep would work wonders. The best way to top off a day like that is to celebrate .. it is rare for me but my drug of choice was a pastry. So off to the fires I go.

Lately, encounters with noodle have grown to be either black or white. I do not know why she has such trouble adapting to my lack of collar now but we seem to either have a moment of close connection or something else on the farthest end of the spectrum. I had no idea that the simple act of giving noodle a bit of the sticky gooey treat would disintegrate the fiber of the girl. I sat there watching while she went through this emotional nuclear melt down. Next thing I knew, I found myself repeating ... yet again what I have said three other times previously ... serve your Master and do it to the best of your ability .. be proud and make him proud. You would have thought I'd slapped her. I don't understand. But if you want bitch mode ... I can deliver. I sort of liked that feeling ... made me all tingly. I could learn to truly enjoy that feeling if I didn't have to live with my consequences or didn't care.

The bottom line was I just didn't have the want, need or energy to argue with anyone ... understand? ... anyone ... at that moment, so in the end I simply sought the peacefulness of my wagon and the company of my little lizard friend. I really need to find a good name for that guy. I don't know if he worries about whether or not I will trade or wager him away but then he doesn't seem all that concerned. He was quite content to perch up there on the slat of wood and watch as I pulled out the broken pieces of the halter, left over rings from the bit and sorted through the beads that Tarra had given me. Blue glass tear drops were soon suspended from the leather, intermingling with the silvery metal rings to create a unique ting sound where each touched against another. It was surpisingly loud but not in an offensive kind of way ... sort of mellow.

When I had finished I sat there looking at it ... listening to it ... making it ring over and over again. Something beautiful of something no longer useful. I would thank Seth later for exposing this concept to me but it was going to be a gift for someone that had first affected how I thought about things. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry .. not for any part of this journey .. not for being close to me .. not for sharing a moment ... not for who and what I am .. not even me. In time perhaps reminders no matter how subtle may not bristle the the fine down on the back of my neck. I only want to look back to have a small understanding of how far I have come. As far as I was concerned .. I was doing alright .. toddling, stumbling but still getting back up again. My pride was telling me I was doing good .. damn good. In fact it felt so good that I made several more of the windchimes until I ran out of rings and beads. Ah yes, enough of them to keep a Tuchuk awake .. all night.