Music flowed from the small portable radio, which hung from the fence post across from the old barn. Some song about love, or something like it, long lost in the jazzy overtones. The clarinet sang high pitched valor while the tenor sax followed with it’s hum drum easy. The snare drum, striking a beat which sent the radio crowd wild with ecstasy that was fueled by the age of jazz, the care free, almost neglect. You could hear the excitement and love in the music.
Across from the fence, leaning on an old willow tree sat a lone figure. Head bent low in slumber, long brown flecked with grey hair, pulled into a pony tail, flipped slightly in the warm August afternoon breeze. The hard features on the face gave the impression of a crass, forbidding man. That could hardly be further from the truth. Mikal sat cross-legged in coveralls, a grease covered stripped red and white shirt. Mikal’s boots sat in a neat row next to the tree, slightly to on off angle.
The radio announcer began reading an advertisement for a miracle liquid that would cure the slump in energy during the day, a liquid that would prevent the drinker from getting sick. As was most of those advertisements, they were just trying to make a buck. Mikal awoke after having a dream, not one of his best, but who was to know. Slowly, he reached for his boot and pulled out his watch and his wallet as he put the boots on the correct feet. After he tied them in double square knots, he stood and stumbled in a slumbered state. After correcting himself, he went over and turned off the radio and un hooked it from the fence.
Mikal spat and began to walk to the farm house which was in slight disrepair. Mikal had been gone for almost a year. He had traveled around most of the country before deciding that life would just have to pass him by. He felt that there was nothing for him out there, sure, he had a few good laughs and got to meet a few good people, but he was different. Mikal began to fully understand that he would have to give it all up, that he would have to move on. Mikal arrived at the backdoor of the farmhouse and cast grey eyes up at the askew shutters which hung on a single hinge. Mikal smirked and knew that first thing in the morning, he would repair them and would fix the house and barn.
Arriving in the kitchen, Mikal went to the wood stove and threw in a couple logs and some newspaper and lit a match. After fanning the flames, he let the stove get hot as he went to get some eggs from the chickens. The kitchen door sung on a rusty hinge and it creaked like some old banshee. Mikal cringed slightly at the shriek, another thing he would have to fix. Mikal shook his head as he walked down the steps and made his way to the chicken roost. After fighting with a hen for three eggs, Mikal made his way back to the house. He would be dammed if a chicken would get the best of him.
After cooking his eggs, Mikal sat at the table and began to eat as he planned what he should accomplish first.
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