I woke up to a world without a visible sun. It hid behind the dark clouds of Mother Nature; holding back any shred of heat that might derive from it. The frigid air from outside slithered through the cracks of my house encasing me in a blanket of arctic air. My only protection was one lonely duck feathered quilt my mother had bought me years ago. Despite, my body filled with reluctance and scorn, I lifted myself out of bed and dashed to the sanctuary of my hot shower. However; this sanctuary would not last forever for I would soon remember that it was flyer day.

Misery and dread was mutually shared between my brothers and I on flyer day. For it was the day our toes would go numb and our bodies would end covered in bruises. Leaping over snow banks, running through valleys of snow, and sliding across rinks of ice, These were our many strategies to delivering the precious flyer. These motions would render our bodies exhausted and beaten, all for the good people of Panorama Hills. Savings were of their number one priority!

My brothers and I had the initial task of squishing and squashing each and every flyer into the flyer mobile; two trip were never an option!

As we opened the door front door to our safe haven too, crisp, frigid air came rushing in; cutting through  layers of jackets ,chilling our bones to the core. Any uncovered skin was left vulnerable to mother nature’s bites. The outside looked like a winter waste land, with snow carpeting every little space imaginable, leaving ice to  be discovered only by slips and falls.

This task was insignificant compared to the daunting task that soon would be upon us. The countless vogues we would take, would always start in depression, but the warm promise of home would keep us motivated. The sudden gimps of the ominous last flyer, would strike fear into our hearts, for  we would have to venture out in weather that no sane man had gone before.

As the engine of the flyer mobile roared to life adrenaline would fill our hearts, giving us the promise of a strong start. We rolled down the icy roads of Panorama hills, with all doors open; efficiency was all in practicum when delivering flyers.  As we stopped at our first house I saw Kian, already 20 meters away running like he had the promise of a girl on the other end. Unfortunately, his return looked nothing like his original flight out, he would come back covered in arctic frost which would end up straight into his body slowing him down for the rest of the day.

There were 599 left and I could already tell that today was not going to be a good day. The streets had became a skating rink  with snow at every end ready to catch any falls trips and slips. Needless to say I grew great trust with the snow by the end of the day, for it would catch me many times over.

We almost at the half way mark when little Kian would came back in tears holding his knee complaining he had slipped and broken his collar bone. It was left to me and Cole to finish the daunting task of delivering these flyers. Cole’s face was a mirror image of mine, plastered with, disdain and scorn, for this task was meant for the 3 brothers not for 2 and one cheerleader.

The promise of doughnuts and hot chocolate would leave my father lips motivating me and Cole to finish this heart retching task. We would finish it in a time that could not compare to any previous or any from the future.

Hot chocolate and doughnuts were our reward, which we would claim no modesty. Crumbs were left to the final brother who would; consequently end in tears , for what would be the second time today. Kian’s puppy dog eyes would bring no empathy; he would be left with only crumbs. The life of a flyer boy is not intended for the average, but merely meant for the brave, persistent and the few.