Seminar to not forget(stare)

For they're deep and they're wide
And the world on its side
And time is running backwards
And so is the bride

I've never liked the spring. The chilled air combined with the damp, muddy ground and hints of remaining snow have never seemed entirely appealing to me. It's nothing like people like to imagine it as. There are no fresh blooming flowers or endless blue sky, no beautiful rebirth after the death winter brought to the world. No, spring brings with it drenching rains and muddy roads, the earth awakening groggily from a deep slumber. The colors are far from bright and cheerful, only introducing a tired community to brand new shades of brown and gray. No, I would say that spring is perhaps my least favorite time of year, placed even lower than the icy months of winter.

But the benefits of the season are not nonexistent. Spring is when my father can start his seminars again, and when I can once again ride the horses into town. There are few things I find more relaxing than the quiet clop of their hooves, even in great puddles created by the melted snow. Last night, we were even able to build a fire again. I was so pleased that I was easily persuaded into singing a few notes, much to the delight of my colleagues. It was a momentary bliss, a kind of warmth that flowed through me at the feel of my fingers causing the notes to bloom from my guitar.

Today, however, the ice has crept back into my attitude. I lean back heavily against the splintering wooden wall of the barn, watching carefully as my father begins to help a woman with her disobedient horse. Even after knowing him for so long I find myself still learning - I'm certainly not the perfect horseman, but he is, and there is still so much he could teach me if only I pay attention. And yet, my patience only lasts so long, and I soon find myself distracted by the faces of the crowd. A chubby young girl with wide blue eyes, a tall man whose face is far too angular, an elderly woman apparently determined not to lose her skills despite the distinct stoop of her back. The people of District Ten vary, but we are all joined by our common line of work.

I scowl when I notice the back door open - someone trying to get in for free, no doubt - eyes flickering through the crowd briefly. As assistant, it's my job to make sure the seminar goes smoothly, and that means I'm the one in charge of picking out those who try to sneak in without paying. I'm unable to locate the intruder, though, and when my father glances back at me reassuringly I decide to let it go. Years ago I may have hunted the person down, shoved them against a wall and yelled at them until they were practically begging to give me money, but since then I have mellowed and matured. Or at least, I pretend to have, for Papa's sake.

Still, something in the crowd makes me shift uncomfortably. Narrowing my eyes, I search through the crowd again and notice a boy staring at my intently. It's a trick used by a lot of our customers - they're too intimidated to ask questions, so they watch you until finally you're forced to address them. I reluctantly rise from my place, swiftly and silently working my way around the barn and diving into the crowd until I've reached the boy. Upon closer inspection I realize he is about my same age, and my eyebrows knit together. His face looks almost like... his. I have to collect myself for a brief moment before offering him a falsely friendly smile.

"Is there somethin' I can help you with, sir?" I ask politely, glancing toward my father through the crowds. "I work here, and I'd be more than happy to explain somethin' to you if you don't quite understand. A lot of people are still so new to the idea of this kind of horse trainin', so it's perfectly understandable if you're a bit confused." It's the same speech I give to all new customers who are having a hard time. It's almost sad, really, how people can't even control their own animals. We teach them, though, and they learn. We've never had an unsatisfied customer before in our entire existence. Of course, there's a first time for everything.

But I doubt this will be it.

Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the time that flies
For the child that cries