When I had my little cancer scare a few weeks ago, some surprising things came of it.
I’ve been through this before–suddenly realizing you may not be around for another Christmas, another New England spring, another round of baby bunnies. Maybe there won’t be “plenty of other times” to take the family to a silly movie, or go get ice cream.
It brings you up short, this little calling card from death. It makes you think really, really hard about what is really important. And what you really want to do today. Today.
It’s a great wake-up call.
So it was interesting when in the middle of my first talk with my dear husband, when I had my first panic attack, about what this might mean for us if the news got bad, what popped out was,
“Can I have a horse?”
We both laughed as soon as I said that. I sounded like a kid. It really took me back to my childhood, when I would have given anything to have a horse.
But maybe it’s not so funny.
After my last round of knee surgeries five years ago, I actually promised myself riding lessons as a way of getting me through my long recuperation and physical therapy. I’m been happily riding once a week since then, and loving it.
Recently I’ve been riding Missouri Fox Trotters with a friend of a friend. It’s deliriously fun! Their trot is like a fish wiggle. Trail riding is a wild, exuberant dash up and down our steep New Hampshire trails. I LOVE it!
And of course, an ancient little horse is where it all began for my art.
But actually own a horse? Be responsible for the care of such a large and expensive animal every day, in summer and winter, rain or shine? During black fly season???!!
Well, maybe I’ll lease a horse instead.
But it’s still a thing of wonder. Over the years, I’ve heard incredible stories of women who went looking for their horse, and incredible stories of how their horses found them.
The stories are beautiful and moving and powerful–because horses can be hugely healing and profoundly powerful animals to be around. (A little too huge and profound when one is standing on your foot….)
I know when it’s time for me to have a horse, a horse will appear. And it will seem as magical and wonderful as that sentence sounds.
So here we are, two very busy professional people with kids still at home and aging parents and full personal lives.
Jon is waiting for a dog.
And I am looking for my horse.