Too Late---Far Too Late

    Too Late, Far too Late. That is me. I was born about 500 years too late. I always envision a small wooden shack in the forest, snow waist deep in the winter, smoke curling lazily out of the chimney on the cabin, or shack, as you will. Life was harder then, a real struggle. I don't mind, my life has been a struggle all of these 46 years.

 

               Of course, there would be the requisite wife, and two small children who struggle with me. I would hunt and farm. My wife and children would gather what plants and roots they could in the summer. These would make the potions and salves that they would sell to the townsfolk as cures for various ailments. We aren't rich, but we get by well enough.

 

         At times, I go on short quests for my liege, my king. Never do I kill Dragons, as I tend to get on well with them. I could no more kill one of them than my own child. I am called the "Dragon Master" for good reason. This ability also lends itself to earning extra money for my family and myself.

 

             There is always mead, or ale to drink, and times are fairly good. There is a good king on the throne, and he is quite the diplomat, rarely making war with our neighbors. But, sometimes, war is all that the neighbors understand, then so be it! Men!!! Spur your mounts on to victory!! Let loose the Dogs of War!!!  We return triumphant, even though some of our men sleep with the "old ones". (They have died, for those of you who know not better).

 

           Yes, times can be tough, but I will struggle through, and so will my kin. They stand beside me, because after all, family is all you have to look to for help....they are always there.

 

          This writing is for Tonja, my oldest daughter. When she was small, we used to play like kings, Mafia guys, and Southern Debutantes! Thank you for never letting my imagination turn into an "adult wasteland". You made me play these things with you, and kept me going.

 

                    Holla' If You Hear Me!!!