Back in the day…
Who am I kidding? Life is perfect at the moment and it was perfect in the past. You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some times…
People seem to think I need a partner. Not all people, mind you, but the good-hearted majority seem to think I must need solace when they are not there with me. I’m really fine with the loves I have had and the selfishness of being single. I would never consider a do-over. My reward for years of poopy diapers leaking and projectile vomiting is two lovely daughters I really enjoy being with.
A new routine has developed. I went out for a brisk, morning walk with Alice one day and met this:
Since then, I am overjoyed when Alice sounds the alarm and I look out to see the pair cresting the hill in the driveway. He is intent on a rest from total emotional and physical overload and she is grinning from each corner of her only armor, her helmet.
AJ is a handsome, petite horse, and like all things height challenged (including said author) he overcompensates with bolder-than-life bravado. His origins are vague; Hanni’s seat on him is rooted in centuries of horsemanship. While he rips snatches of clover and grass from the lawn, she slides off and adjusts his layer of padding. There is no saddle but the reality of two, lithe bodies coming together physically at great rates of speed, requires at least some padding. She vaults back astride as we finish our own snatched dose of nutrition from the quick conversation. I have not had my daughters near for a very long time. This is a summer-time-never-wanting-it-to-end new ritual.
One of my running jokes at work, (in addition to: “I knew college bartending would pay off!” as I mix oil and vinegar tastings) is when someone comments on the ring on my right hand. It is the ring I bought myself once my marriage to Jeff was officially over. It is a small sparkle that says, “You leapt, stop looking for the net.” I respond to compliments by saying it is my disengagement ring. Women place special meaning in engagement rings. The symbolism of a disengagement ring is I gave up the notion that living 24×7 with someone with two legs and a brain, was something I was very good at long-term. Best to save the next victim any heartache and just look at the world as one for a while. Today, the woman who complimented the ring, held up her left hand where a tight silver band was lodged between her first and second knuckle. “This is my reminder to not make that misstep again!” she proclaimed. Maybe some of us are not the “mate for life” types?
After a particularly trying day in other ways, I looked out the window at dusk and thought of watching that silly little horse march up the drive this morning and remembered: There is sweetness in everyday. You just have to recognize it.
What is not “sweet” is coming home to Skeedles lounging on the deck when I step out to fill the feeders. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but a small, striped rodent (outside toy) was trapped in one of the feeders. I don’t want to know how dumb you have to be to get yourself stuck in a bird feeder. Suffice to say this one was so dumb it was not worth more than mere entertainment to the Skeedles Cat. The sweetness was I didn’t find it – alive OR dead – inside my house. Soft, squishy bodies under bare feet encountered in the middle of the night are best when they are “inside” toys.