My horse Shadow, 1998

Prologue: I wrote this for a reading at my writer’s group to discuss where I am as a writer. WARNING: It contains some swearing and crazy-ass thinking. I’m still grieving the loss of Luke. And it appears any time you suffer one loss, it brings up feelings from all the other losses in your life. As I explained to my writer’s group, I may often be quiet on the outside, but my brain is very busy and very vocal on the inside, and it sounds something like this…

Since Luke died, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am.

I know that sounds very silly, coming from a woman my age. Or just silly in general because, of course, losing a horse, no matter how much I loved him and how much a part of my life he was, doesn’t change who I am. I’m still me.

Of course.

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horse running

It’s been a long time since I’ve written. It’s as though I turned sixty last March and my brain stopped formulating thoughts into words.

No, that’s not the whole truth of it.

There was a lot going on besides reaching an age that could be called “old.”

My horse, Luke, had been having one heaves* attack after another. I would find him wheezing and coughing this horrible ratcheting sound, followed by a long moan that raised goosebumps on my arms and made my own breathing stop. I’d call the vet, cry while I waited, unable to do anything but massage Luke’s neck and press my face against his fur.

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Dog looking out at Mississippi River

How does one get unstuck? You know, that kind of stuck where you can’t seem to carve out enough time (or what you believe is enough time) to do a decent job at something so you do nothing.

We’ve all seen the articles that tell us that we DO have enough time if something is REALLY important to us. Often what we say we value is not backed up by how we actually spend our time.

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