Memories of the rider I was decades ago, galloping bareback, seat balanced in the bliss of ignorance. Thirty years later, there's a war between my mind's love of flying and my body's memory of falling. I just want to ride again without fear.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
5 of 5, Scout Goes Out
The end of her confinement, the end of her waiting. I don't think horses have a sense of time. Instead, now is always for them. Every day, she wanted something that she couldn't have. Every day, she waited. Now that's done, whatever it was to her, and forgotten as though it never happened.