the morning.

This morning I was up before the sunrise. I pulled on my riding clothes and a fleece jersey and slipped into my car. I will miss the familiar drive to the barn; this morning was one of those rare moments in time where I actually saw. It seems so rare these days that I actually hesitate to notice moments of life, it is such a difficult and conscious state of existence and most of the time I'm simply floating in my own random thoughts. But this morning was different-- something about the mist that lies in sheets above the fields of corn and yellow flower. Or perhaps it was the reds and oranges glowing through it. I sat still in my car, hands frozen on the steering wheel, thinking that I would be happy if I could just keep driving through such a surreal existence. But it wasn't long before the road dropped beneath me and the small valley left the sheets hanging above my head, melting into the trees.

My ride with Rowan was meditative and very much one of teamwork. Collecting and extending, the manipulating of gaits, the pushing into the bit; it's nice to have power underneath me, even if it's in such a small package.

My interpretation of my emotions towards AVH in recent weekends could be described as rocky. Last night, face stuffed into my pillow, I found difficulty breathing between sobs. Something last weekend triggered my innate feeling of distrust towards boys. I believe there are people who would base this distrust on my parents' divorce when I was a child but my experience with SFB seemed much more traumatic, much more impacting on my emotions. Looking over at the bar to see him with another girl... one of those stupid images that's burned into your memory no matter how desperately you want it to fade. My frantic state was induced from a fear of the feeling that things seemed to slipping through my fingers. I suppose we all live in our own realities. The brilliant thing about AVH is that I know he won't just give up on me, that he actually asks what I'm thinking and why I might be thinking such thoughts, and then he listens, even when I'm quiet, he's still there and he still waits for me to think my words through.

This afternoon I finished "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (Gavin Bell)-- it left me feeling South Africa on my skin. His conclusion still resonates with me...

"high above the sprawl of human settlement, aloof yet benign, stood the silhouette of Table Mountain. It was like a sign saying welcome home."