Merriton

“What we need is something to attract people.” A.S. was excited about her idea for the Cowboy Think Tank, but all Sierra could think about was going for a run. The baby was crawling across the hardwood floors of Sierra’s home while she wished for the snow to melt. “Don’t people come here to ski?” Sierra asked, feigning interest. A.S. didn’t want to hear anything negative about her idea. “We need something that happens EVERY month, not just during the winter. When the economy tanks like this, we need to have traditions for people to rely on.”

Sierra was in an automatic argue mode. It was how she dealt with Randy when he was mulling over new ideas. He liked to hear counter arguments. He wanted a devil’s advocate. It was something Sierra could do without thinking. Since all of her thoughts were focused on running, she could do little else. “So this festival circuit thing is for the residents when times are tough?”

A.S. puffed out a breath of air, unnoticed by Sierra. “No! The festivals are to attract tourists.” Sierra responded, “So the traditions are for the tourists?” Sierra stood up and looked out the front window. She could see the barn and corral. Her goats were happily bouncing in the chilly sunshine. She thought to herself, “Melt, melt, melt.” She paid no attention as A.S. snapped up the child from the floor.

“No! The traditions are for the locals, but the festivals are for the tourists!” A.S. bounced the baby as if he had been crying, but the movement soothed neither of them. Sierra unconsciously replied, “So, you want a festival every month like the Onion Festival?” The baby struggled against A.S.’s bouncing and put his hand on her face, pushing the cheek away. A.S. answered defensively, “Yes…”

If Sierra had been able to concentrate on anything besides running, she would have noticed A.S.’s angry voice. Instead, she willed the temperature higher. She prayed for a southern wind. She would have burned the snow away with laser vision if she could have. Her autonomous response was, “You had a hard time putting together just The Onion Festival this year. How will you do it every month?”

For a moment, A.S. was speechless and still. She stopped bouncing the baby, but he continued pushing her face away with the palm of his hand. When she regained her senses, she carefully put the baby back on the floor. She gathered her notes about The Merriton Festival Circuit and put them into the diaper bag. She made a show of packing up the boy’s toys, binkies and bottles. She even put on her coat and the baby’s snowsuit with exaggerated movements.

It had gotten so quiet that Randy crept down the stairs to see what had happened. He could tell that A.S. was angry and was refusing to talk to Sierra. Not even to say goodbye, but his wife had failed to notice. Her thin frame looked out the window wistfully. Randy watched A.S. leave in a huff and Sierra only noticed when she heard the door slam.