Daily Archives: November 2, 2012

Wild and free

I snuck out to the farm this afternoon.

Normally I only ride when my son is in preschool but husband had a day off so I took advantage of it. I reasoned that I had to wash the dog anyway after brushing him for hours, so I really had no choice…

I saddled up and went for a trail ride. All the horses were put away in stalls for the night, pastures were empty and deer were feeding on the grass by the track. Max was soaked from the shower I gave him earlier and smelling like Mane’n tail. He was trotting along, his tail hi up, probably fancying himself a bit of a horse too. Vizon was feeling rather competitive, wanting to race my dog. I sat there, controlling his pace, wandering what goes through his mind as I ride him on a late summer afternoon.

They both noticed the deer grazing and dog charged after him. As if he was ever going to catch him. And if so, what would he do with him anyway? Vizon was staring at the chase, wanting to trot faster. We took the curb and rode over the leaves that have started falling in the past week. The sound of them crushing under my horses huffs, my dog panting by the side of us, trying to catch up and the breeze on my face made me happy. Riding on a quiet afternoon, on an empty farm, alone, made me happy.

Then the guilt came over me. What kind of mother am I? My happiest moment of the day is spend with my animals. What kind of wife am I? When I think of a perfect afternoon, my husband’s role in it is one of a babysitter. What kind of friend am I? Being glad that I waved at my girlfriends leaving through the gate as I entered the farm?

I looked at the time. Then I decided to go another lap around the racetrack. And we galloped all the way. Max and Vizon racing, the dust on the track lifting up behind us. Nobody could see us through it, so I smiled. I will hug my boy, kiss my man and spend time with my friends later. But right now we will run free.

( I wrote this couple of months ago. )

Posted in The Great life | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments