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Show FOR LUCK-42 about his decision to come, though he wouldn't have felt good deciding the other way either. That was mean of me, but I am missing Oscar terribly. Tim should have let him sleep with me. The sight of Easy dancing out of her stall at the end of the lead rope makes him smile, though. She does that to everyone, because she is that polished copper and she moves molten. Tim backs away a step. I quiet her with a tug on the lead line and say, "come, touch her." Tim touches Easy's neck with the tip of his outstretched hand, moves in a step closer, pats. He's smiling a little because it's maybe all right after all. I snap the lungeline on the halter and move away from Tim to the center of the ring where I kiss to Easy until she's trotting around me in a circle. I slow her to a walk and beckon Tim to my side. "Here, you try it. Just say 'trot' nice and snappy and kiss to her a little, turn when she turns, stay in one spot." Tim is not happy about this, but he takes the lungeline from my hand and calls out a faint "trot." Easy slows down to look at him. "She doesn't believe you." So he shouts, and Easy gives a startled buck and goes into a canter. Tim looks horrified, but when I don't say anything, he settles down and begins to enjoy the sensation of a horse pounding around him. It's a little like holding the wind, and I can tell he's finding that out. Mom would have liked the way Tim feels a thing once he tries it. She didn't do much with her life, but she sure showed us a thing or two about dying. While Dad was slumped in his armchair weeping into his old-fashioneds, she was writing poetry, furiously, madly, in a hurry, knowing what no one else would talk to her about. Some time around then she said to me, "I should have let you have a dog." I prefer cats now, but there was a time when a dog would have made things |
