The last few days have been filled with thoughts, chores, relaxation, and fatigue. I feel like I have neglected my two horse guys, maybe because I have. I can’t shake the feeling that when I don’t actually tend to them that I have failed as their caretaker, even though I know they are both in safe places. It’s more than that, though, it’s the loss I feel when I don’t see them, touch them, talk to them. When animals are such a part of your life, for such a long time, it’s really difficult to remove oneself from their day-to-day living. They don’t need me, I know that, but in my heart I think they do.
I have to be honest, however, about the fact that it was nice not to have to go to them daily. I allowed myself time to work in the yard; to not look at the clock and think, “Oh, I have to go feed Buddy”; to join Chuck and have a relaxing sip of wine on the patio and look at the birds flitting from the cherry tree to the bird feeders; to simply live a little bit of life without horses being part of it. It gave me time to reflect upon what our next step in life will be, which leads me to making decisions with Chuck about where to live, how to live, our capabilities to maintain what we have, and our happiness shared in this home.
As much as we both enjoy this home, perhaps it is time to move on to a new abode. We have always adjusted to new homes; hey, we have moved into 16 new houses in 10 different cities in our 56 years together. Each departure left a little of me behind, but each new home brought excitement and adaptation to a new environment as we made each house a home. I have never been afraid to move on, but as I have grown older, each move has caused a little more emotional stress to my well-being. I am saddened at leaving items behind. I know, they are things, but each “thing” is something that brings back a memory. And then memories get in the way of happiness, and so on. So melodramatic!
I have lost much more than items in these various cities: an infant daughter in Illinois; a baby son in Pennsylvania; a sister and both parents in North Carolina; another sister in California. These are the true losses in my life. And then the beloved dogs, cats, and horses that we have buried in these places bring tears and so much heart pain. I find them the most difficult to write about, such losses.
Enough! New adventures await, and I’m ready to take the necessary steps to manage our life with style, grace, and thankfulness that we are able to choose what to do instead of being forced into action. I’d like to say that there is always a positive behind every change, but I’m not sure I truly believe that. Perhaps acceptance is a better way to say it, or pleasurable adjustment.
And, of course, Buddy and Reo will still be with me until either their death or mine, and then we will be left behind, too.