We head east, past the field, past the house. Dennis leads the way. Turk’s a buckskin, part American Saddlebred. I follow on Lady, his part-Shetland strawberry roan. She’s my age, and I think she’s jealous. She limps. And swings her head around to nip at my feet.
I call ahead.
I think she’s hurt. And I know she doesn’t like me.
Dennis sighs and turns back. Lady follows. And breaks into a trot. Then a gallop. I grab the saddlehorn and hang on.
No more limp. Lady’s focus is on home. And on dumping her burden.
I’ve been limping a bit lately.
I’m fine. Really.
I don’t feel burdened necessarily, but we have a lot going on right now.
And my writing has suffered. It feels strained, stunted, forced.
And I’ve missed connecting on your blogs. I don’t feel guilty about that. I just miss you. Your words enrich me.
We have a wedding coming up on the 4th.
And family time to be spent tubing and swimming and walking and climbing lighthouses.
We’ll spend time with my sister and parents and other family later in the month.
So I’m turning my focus toward home.
I’m going to finish wedding preparations and regroup.
I’m going to organize my photos (the ones on my computer), clean my house, catch up on reading, pick the burs out of my mane, maybe pull some weeds out of the yard, spend some time with Him, sleep.
Okay, so maybe that’s a lot for a month. Maybe I’ll just rest after the wedding.
At any rate, I’m not locking myself in the stall, but I’m dropping the weight of “the schedule” for a season.
I may write every day.
I may not.
Maybe I’ll just do a five-minute free write ala Lisa Jo on a word prompt I pull from my poetry magnet kit.
It’s a writing vacation of sorts.
At least until the end of July.
“Slow down. Take a deep breath. What’s the hurry? Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway? But you say, ‘I can’t help it. I’m addicted to alien gods. I can’t quit.’ ~Jeremiah 2:25 (Message)