It's Dark It's Cold It's Winter [open]

Don’t think there’s much else to know in District 10, then that we got all the world could offer. Briar focuses like the rest of folk on all the stuff we ain’t got, but me, I like to think about how lucky we are. There’s plenty of people that ain’t alive, there’s plenty that much worse off than the two of us. We lost our ma all those years ago but, we still got each other. And that’s enough, enough to get by. ‘Cause I got someone I wake up with, and someone to dream with. May not agree on the same things. Sometimes we fight like cats and dogs. But looking at her makes me think we’re the heads and tails of a coin. Can’t separate that, no matter how hard you try. And that makes me feel safer, makes me realize just how lucky I am.

Set up now on the ranch, since my daddy’s one that runs cattle across the district. They say I’m too young, so I still got to stay back and do all the stuff they don’t want to do. That means feeding the steers and cleaning up all the poop. Sometimes they call it a rite of passage, ‘cause it’s what they did when they was my age. And I think that’s their way of saying that ‘cause they had to suffer and smell that I’m the one that has to grow up this way. It’s not so bad—there’s always something to be done, so my mind never gets to settle. That’s what’s hardest. Letting your mind settle, and thinking and dreaming about all the things that could be. Like how it’d be nice to live in the big house up the way, not having to clean up after cattle or worry about working ever again.

Today runs right by me, and when I look up from all the work I’ve done, sun’s already setting. The men in the barn wave me off and tell me to get going, though there ain’t much for me to go home too. Pa is never home anymore—his runs seem to get longer and longer. And the woman that was his, don’t see her around the parts no more. I wasn’t sure how much she wanted to do with us anyway. Two kids from someone long dead, never your own and not even raising neither of them. How was she supposed to love us? I can see why she wanted to pack up and make something her own. Never was going to work. Change is too much for some people; it’s better to start fresh ‘cause then you don’t have anything to expect from each other.

What do we do now? Briar will be wandering back home, calling out my name. She chafes when I don’t make it home the same time she does. But tonight I walk the long way around, taking my time. I keep my head down, watch the road and not the people in front of me. I already know where I’m going, don’t need to see what’s in front of me. There’s the long fence that trails along the side, hunks of broken wood dropping down on the dirt from all the years of neglect. And just there—a little wood gate, iron lock all rusted—welcoming folks inside. I stop for a minute. Maybe I could get something together to fix up the gate, so it looked better than it did right now. But then I think that might bring people here, and it’s better having the place to ourselves.

Noreen Lexington.

There’s a lot more she could’ve done, if she was here. It’s hard not to imagine what she would’ve done, or how she would’ve been. I’ve seen the videos, her all nervous, not wanting to be on stage. I think it showed strength—not having the pride to put on a show, but to be who she really was. But then I didn’t know her at all. Eleven years passed since then, and I still don’t really know her, not a little bit. We’re lucky, alive and breathing, even when she’s not. And I think about, about how I want to make her proud. I keep thinking that I gotta make her proud, else nothing is worth it.


The wind picks up and the hanging swing creeks in the wind. I move to take a seat, and throw my legs out in front. I swing, forwards and backwards—not really going anywhere, just stuck in motion. Maybe I’ll stay out here a little longer, even when it starts to get dark. Nothing wrong with taking a minute to clear my head. And so I swing, and watch the sky turn from red to orange to purple.