As Joe made his way along the sidewalk, his grandfather fell into step with him.
“Where’d you come from?” Joe asked.
“Well, Ireland originally by way of New York, a long year spent on a government all-expense paid trip to Vietnam during the war, then back to Providence, and then here in good ole’ Cumberland, Rhode Island where I had the good fortune to trick your grandmother into marrying me.”
Joe shook his head. “I know that, Grandfather, I meant just now.”
“Ah, well then, I came from where I was and now, I am here.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Do you ever just keep it simple?”
“Nope,” the old man said, a huge smile lighting up his face, “life’s complicated, but I do try to make it enjoyable. Are you ready?”
“Ah, ready for what? In case you haven’t noticed, despite all the clues like a backpack and lunch bag,” he held them up for the man to see, “I am on my way to school. Oh, and thanks for the backpack.”
“Well, first, you’re welcome. Second, you are indeed on your way, probably not where you expected to go, but you are on the way. You’ll get to school just a bit late.”
“Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You don’t even know what the idea is yet,” his grandfather said.
Joe stopped walking, turning to face the old man. “Okay, I’ll play along. What is this? Is this an elaborate new prank you’ve devised?’
“Oh, ye of little faith,” his grandfather said. “Follow me.”
Without waiting for Joe, the old man headed down a path into the woods, disappearing into the trees. Joe glanced around, checked the time on his cellphone, shrugged, then followed the old man down the path. It occurred to him he’d never noticed this path before.
“If the school calls my mom, you’re coming with me to explain as part of my defense,” Joe said, jogging to catch up.
When Joe came into the clearing, he stopped dead in his tracks. Closing his eyes for a moment, thinking he must still be dreaming, he slowly reopened them.
“No worries, Joe. Time does sometimes wait while we follow our hearts. No one will even notice you’re missing.”
“Ah, is that?” Joe said, trying to take it all in.
“Indeed, it is, my boy. Let me introduce you to my good friends, Levi David, head flying coordinator elf for Santa’s reindeer and Wyatt James, chief elf training pilot.”
“Ah, they’re elves,” Joe said, glancing between his smiling grandfather and the two elves waving at him.
“I told you he was smart,” his grandfather said, winking at the elves. “Nothing gets by him.”
“Ah, wha, what are we doing here?” Joe said.
“Tell you what,” his grandfather said, pushing him toward the sleigh. “Why don’t we climb aboard, enjoy the ride, and I’ll explain everything. You don’t get airsick, do you?”
Joe looked at him as he took a seat. “How would I know? I’ve never flown in a sleigh before.”
“Excellent point,” his grandfather said. “Just lean over the edge if something comes up,” he let out a laugh. “We’ll avoid residential areas while you get your wings. You didn’t have a big breakfast, did you?”
“Wings?” Joe asked, eyes wide as he stared at the old man.
“It’s an expression, Joe, just an expression. You’ll be fine. I only tossed my cookies once but that was during a blizzard.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Couple of times, whenever the call came.”
When Joe turned to look over the edge of the sleigh, he realized they were already flying. He’d never felt anything.
“I’m a good pilot,” Wyatt James said. “You’ll be fine.”
“How’d you know what I was thinking?” Joe asked.
“It’s an elf skill,” Wyatt James said. “We sense these things.”
Joe settled back and enjoyed the moment. Despite being in an open sleigh flying through an early morning December sky, he felt no chill or wind. Light snow had fallen the night before giving a shimmering glow to the ground, sparkling like diamonds. But in the sleigh, he was nice and warm.
He tapped his grandfather on his shoulder.
“Where are we going?”
His grandfather leaned over, pointed at the lettering on the backpack, and tapped the letter J.
“This is the first part, the Journey.”
Tomorrow: Journey
The Writing of Joe Broadmeadow 