Can it really have been 10 years?? As I broke Solo's favourite candy canes into his 20th birthday breakfast last Sunday, I couldn't quite believe in a DECADE.
A DECADE - that's encompassed what feels like several lifetimes. Maybe that's why I fantasize about naps, ha. While our official 10-year anniversary isn't until Memorial Day weekend, I can't help but feel like we've checked a major milestone.
|
Beginnings: our trot in Aug 2006 |
|
2009: My 30th, his 13th |
I don't know Solo's actual birthday. All I had was the Coggins in the envelope with the bill of sale, taken in January of 2006, describing a 9-yr-old gelding.
When I met him that May, he was advertised as 10, so
I decided to give him my own birthday, sitting neatly in the middle & a date I might even remember.
Given the electric phenomenon of
our initial encounter, I suppose I should have known that unimaginable adventures lay ahead of us. But, well, I was an exuberant 27...and they were unimaginable!
Solo may have been the first horse who was ever my own, but I have had the privilege (
some more pleasant than others...) of working with countless others, as far back as my memory can reach.
Yet, he remains astonishingly unique, truly his own sphere of being, capable of becoming what BFF once accurately described as "a force of nature," ALWAYS on his own terms.
But his kindness & fiercely loyal generosity have more than once moved me beyond words.
The greatest gift of my life, that chestnut face is also the sole remaining bridge to the person I was & the person I loved before the loss whose story is still trapped inside.
|
Fall '10: We've found our stride...literally. Photo purchased from Brant Gamma. |
Many of you know I'm a painfully practical biologist, not prone to anthropomorphize.
However, I also know that "different" is not the same as "lesser;" I have seen animals defy our limitations too many times.
And Solo's ability to look into my core, to lend me his strength, his
joie de vivre, to become so intently still when things fall apart & promise me, on a level of communication I can't explain, that he will wait with me & it will be ok...that horse continues to save my life.
It's a worn-out cliché, but a truth nonetheless.
|
May '07: Our first blues |
So, my notoriously shiny, larger-than-life, impossibly endearing, hopelessly optimistic, greatest partner, everything I have & am is yours.
You taught me that trust opens up the sky for soaring, that being patient & fair is often more important than being right.
|
Apr '10: Owning Novice Longleaf HT. Photo by Pics of You. |
You never let your body get in the way of your enormous heart, you gave...simply because I asked. Even when you shouldn't have.
We're both older, each with some busted-up cartilage, joints that predict the weather, & a longing to burst out of that start box together once more.
I can at least give you wide pastures & good friends, for which I'm so grateful.
And we can pause together in the loblolly's shade, watch the heron stalk unwary fish, & relive a thousand memories in every touch. And if we're lucky, share many more new ones.
From a 2010 indulgence of my inner 12-yr-old, an illustration of...u
s:
Song by Templeton Thompson, a very talented & kind singer/songwriter/horsewoman I had the pleasure of meeting at an Equine Affaire in Raleigh.