The long line back to Life

Absence. Silence.

I have been finding it difficult to find the heart to write here, in the aftermath of Sammie leaving us. I have been hit so hard by the loss, and it has made me feel distant from loved ones, including Max.

I have learned, and have lived, as an island. A rock. I am self sufficient, I am self contained, and I trust me, I rely on me. That's it. Or so I thought.

With Sammie going, I have realised that my life long dream, my inexplicable drive to have my own horse could be my undoing. For all my collected air, my Max has the power to shatter my heart into uncollectable bits and leave me... shattered.

It could happen so easily. A hoon in the field, a misstep on a path, an accident, colic, anything... Me with an empty headcollar and a world torn apart.

Max is dangerous. All the pretty horses are so dangerous because they can and will break my heart.

But Max isn't having any of that.

"I am here. I am now. We are."

So yes, through tears and a lump in the throat, I have been long-lining him. Back in his Dr Cook's bitless, with the noseband further up so it doesn't sit on his cyst from the wasp sting that made him snuffle.

He's been grand. He's been beautiful. He's been a poem and I have stood back in awe.

"Look at you! Handsome boy, look what you can do!"

He can break my heart, that boy, and he will. But in the meantime, he makes me laugh, and he makes me want to try harder to be better and make a better world, and he teaches me patience, and timing, and empathy, and how to live.

All the pretty horses! They can all do that.

But Max is mine, and I am his. Through grief, through storms, through the dark and the light, we will go on. We will face whatever we have to face together, and until then, we will live and learn to dance.

There is no better testament to Sammie than learning to dance with Max, and taking good care of all the pretty horses who find their way to me.