A Quiet Moment with Jigs

I am disquiet. Yesterday I drove two hours south to attend a judged trail ride. Just as I pulled into the parking lot, my cell rang. It was my oldest daughter. My mother, who was visiting her two hours north from home, fell and broke her wrist. There was nothing I could do. I was four hours away.

After a conversation with my mother, who encouraged me to continue the ride, I decided that my daughters had the situation under control. My eldest would drive my parents home and my youngest would drive her back.

What else could I have done?

Still, guilt is a film of tar that coats your stomach. We managed the obstacle course as best we could. The ride should have been fun, but my mind was back home. About half way through the ride, I got a call saying they were home.

We finished the ride. I drove back, unloaded Jigs from trailer, made sure there were groceries, and went to bed

In the morning I woke with a painful twinge- like a healed bone that aches in the rain, dull, but always present.

I had been dreading Monday anyway. Rejection has never been easy for me, so I usually choose to ignore it. But life has a way of forcing you to face it- over and over again.  And Monday, there it was again. No escape. I was going to have to face a guy I had made a fool of myself over. No escape. So I thought.

Around noon, my phone rang. I needed to bring my mother to the specialist. She sounded distressed and  worried. I was oddly relieved to have to drive her, run from the reminder of rejections, past, present, and future.

We can’t control the stuff that happens. Especially with aging parents. And we can’t make people like us. Or force love. Nor can we fix everything- everyone. Pepper taught me that. Somethings can’t be fixed. At least bones heal.

Tonight I visited the barn. Jigs is great,  my one true love. He followed me to the gate and let me fuss over and brush him. We took a walk, side by side, down the street, me leaning on his bulk. I let him graze and visit with the mares. He is social and grounded. So not like me. That is why we work, I suspect.

After I turned him out, I sat by the gate. He stayed with me, his nose reaching the top of my head, letting me scratch his muzzle. For those few moments we just were. No pressures. No sorrow about the past. No worries about the future. Just the pure joy of being together. Just Now. Just Jigs. That is his gift to me.

Explore posts in the same categories: aging parents, horses, Living in the moment, Uncategorized

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