Born Again, Again

Last year, as so much was happening in our lives, I had a difficult time concentrating on what I was doing with Tweed. I sought help from my longtime trainer to be my eyes on the ground and keep us safe, but keep us going. I had to be laser focused on my daughter and grandson,...(well, I still do), but I didn't want to let Tumbleweed sit.

The first day of preschool, October 8th, I missed my sweet grandson so much, but I also had such a feeling of freedom. I loaded Tweed right up and went to the equestrian park. Our time was our own again, and uninterrupted, at least for two days a week.

Autumn 2024: I have changed.  I don’t feel the same need for help. I have a different need for autonomy with Tweed, a need to find our own unique way through this. I feel confident again, yet I don’t regret how I survived to get here.  I feel like a child again, and eager.

I wonder how many times we are reborn in life? By that I mean, a major life event radically shifting our perspective. To come out on the other side of it, and emerge healed, or on the road to healing. To look back and realize how powerless we were, ...or still are, and yet, to be okay with that, maybe even comforted by it.  I'm more grateful on the other side.

Tweed seems different, too. He's more relaxed and in tune with me. We both lost Cowboy and Little Joe this year, leaving Tweed as the only male in a mare herd,... maybe we find ourselves more in need of each other than we were a year ago. 

Last Thursday, I had the greatest day with Tumbleweed. When we arrived at the park, I didn't want to warm him up in the round pen, or even on the obstacle course. It didn't seem right. 

When I unloaded him, we just kept walking.

(Tweed has a sad face because I told him to stand there while I walked in front of him to get his photo. He's being a little pouty.)

And walking.

And walking.

Finally, when we were done walking, I saddled him and rode off again.

We bushwhacked and rode up and down hills, through trees, over logs--we went where the wind blew us. Not a care in the world. Just pure happiness.

As we were returning to the trailer, and it was in sight, I wondered if Tweed would pick up his pace and get barn sour for it, but the exact opposite happened.  He slowed down and looked over at the path going away from it like, Let's keep going, please.

Cowboy used to do that, too, and I take that as a very good sign for our future.