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Which reminds me…

I glance up at the wall clock and sigh. The reindeer are waiting for dinner and it’s my turn to feed them.

Giving the sleigh bells a little shake, I put them away and power off all the recording equipment. I should be able to finish up the tree farm jingle tomorrow, and then I can check one more item off my holiday prep to-do list.

Cool air glides over my skin when I step outside, and I wish I’d thought to grab a sweater before I headed over to the Hideaway.

Thankfully, most of the buildings are grouped together in the southeast corner of our property, so it doesn’t take long to make my way from the studio to the stable. Twilight darkens the clear blue sky, and the birds are busy with their evening songs. My eyes track the flight of a northern mockingbird, and I pause as it alights on a tree branch above me. It whistles a short song that sounds a lot like the earworm I had last week, and it makes me wonder if I taught it the melody or if it taught it to me.

Feeling playful, I whistle back. The mockingbird cocks its head at me and ruffles its feathers, but it doesn’t fly away in horror, so I guess that’s something. Maybe I only perform terribly for humans.

Dunder and Blixem must have heard me whistle. They rush over in a flurry of hooves and happy grunts to meet me at the corral gate.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” I say, giving each one a muzzle rub.

Their names come from the original published version of C. C. Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas.” Dunder is slightly shorter and grayer than her sister, Blixem, but what she lacks in height, she makes up for in spunk and a stubborn streak. As I step into the enclosure, Dunder nuzzles into my side, sniffing my pockets to see if I’ve brought a handful of moss for them as a treat.

“No dessert until you’ve finished your dinner,” I say, sounding a bit too much like my mom.

Blixem, the taller, tanner reindeer of the pair, snorts and gives me a judgmental side-eye.

“You’re right,” I agree. “I need to loosen up.”

I stifle a shiver and scratch Blixem under her chin. A jealous Dunder knocks her antlers into her sister’s. They remind me a lot of me and Halley when we were younger, always vying for our parents’ attention.

As I head into the barn to get reindeer feed, my fingers automatically glide over the beaded friendship bracelet I’m wearing today, the message inspired by Sara Bareilles: Rewrite the Lines.

I have at least one bracelet for every mood, outfit, and occasion. I suppose they’re my version of worry beads or a worry doll or whatever worry talisman people use to get over their fears and make things happen. My beaded bracelets are meant to inspire, encourage, and remind me that I’m part of a sisterhood of songwriters.

Only problem is, I’m not sure the bracelets are working.

Track 4

Blank Page Malady

Kash

November 1

I’ve got a blank page.

Actually, a whole legal pad full of ’em. And they’re taunting me relentlessly.

One day…

Two days…

Three days…

Four.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the college-ruled yellow sheet of paper in front of me. Long enough, that’s for damn sure.

Long enough that I can still see the red margin lines slicing across the black writing lines when I close my eyes.

Long enough that I’ve dreamed about them in my sleep.

And still, I’ve got nothing more than a few crumpled-up wads of paper from failed attempts and an unfortunate coffee spill.