Naming Week Project

Chapter One

Should she speed up or slow down? Since she started home she had sprinted, lingered, and everything in between. Every few hundred yards her intentions seemed to change. One minute she was contemplating hopping fences like hurdles, and the next she was mapping out a new scenic route through the mountains that might consequently add another hour, or three, to her commute home. To any fellow pedestrians, Leda must have looked a little unstable to say the least, but she had too much on her mind to worry about what everyone else was thinking. For once. Getting home would mean major preparations for tonight. And tonight meant the beginning of the week that she had been both dreading and dreaming of for the past year. Naming Week.

She must have been in sprint mode longer than usual, because Leda suddenly found herself huffing and puffing and only three houses down from home. Regretting her subconscious choice to run the last leg of her journey, Leda walked to the next yard, hands on her hips, inhaling deep breaths of the cool, crisp fall air and sat atop a haphazardly placed rock just off the sidewalk.

The rock, as well as the rest of the yard, belonged to the Brynns, a kind elderly couple that had lived in the house ever since Leda could remember. When she and her brothers were young, they would constantly create new adventures and invent dangerous games involving the treacherous climb to the top of "Brynn's Boulder". Their parents rarely let them explore the nearby forest even though they begged and pleaded constantly. The nearby boulder was the next best thing. Being the youngest, and by far the smallest, Leda felt an immense amount of pride whenever she was able to reach the top of the epic rock. She smiled at the memories. If only little Leda could see her know - casually resting atop her childhood challenge. It had always been a king's throne or a lookout post high above a pirate ship. She had never imagined it would be a place of respite. So much had changed since those days of imagination and adventure, and more changing was soon to arrive. She found comfort in knowing "Brynn's Boulder" would remain a constant, no matter how insignificant it was in the scheme of things now. As she lifted herself off the cool rock, she gave it a loving pat - a thank you for the years of support, figurative and literal. She tensed her shoulders and let them fall, trying to release some of the tension she had been unable to let go of over the past few weeks. One last deep breath and she made her way home.

***

"Leda? Leda, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Mom. One second." She hadn't even made it through the door before her mother began listing off things that needed to be done before dinner.

"Great! If you could just check on the chicken and slice up the fruit. We'll put in the bread later, so it stays warm. Oh, I completely forgot to pull out the silverware. Could you get that? Thanks, sweetheart!" She rushed past Leda, hands full of clean laundry that smelled of cotton and lavender. She gave her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and continued seamlessly into the family room without waiting for Leda to reply.

"And we're off." Leda commented to herself as she shrugged off her light jacket and headed to the kitchen. Naming Week was always a stressful time of year, but this year was especially chaotic since two of the three Hasting siblings were taking part in the events. She peeked in the oven, added a couple minutes to the timer, and shifted over to the counter where the freshly washed fruit and an oak cutting board were waiting for her. As she reached for a knife to begin halving the strawberries, her mind was fixed on Naming Week.

Naming Week was the beginning of the new year. It came after the long and light-filled summer, just as the leaves began to change and the days shortened. The tradition was born over a century ago out of a community's desire to create unity and equality among all its members. Their success has become today's tradition and the structure on which present society builds its future. Leda rolled her eyes as she thought those words. They had been hammered into her brain every year in school, not to mention they were everywhere during each Naming Week - on banners, in speeches, songs, and stories. They even had an enormous cake one year with the entire spiel written out on a fondant scroll with deep red frosting script. The cake was delicious, she remembered fondly, but the decor was a little much.