I am a writer, Irish trad fiddler, piper's wife, Mom of three grown kids, recently transplanted to rural mountain town in NC, seeking grace, understanding, a truer path.
March, with its overcast days and damp chill that seeps into the bones more insidiously than winter cold. March, with its occasional burst of spring-like days, soon replaced by more drear, which seems even more unbearable in contrast, like a promise believed but broken.
But the gray skies only make more beautiful and luminous the pink weeping cherry trees that grow in our front and back yard. The trees look like divine beings from another planet, reminding me of the delicate, fragile beauty of the moment. Just behind them, garbage cans are in display -- ours knocked down by the city sanitation workers, who seem to derive primitive joy out of flinging and tossing things around.
If I have a prayer, it’s this: Teach me to fill more space inside me with beauty. I still see and feel the garbage in my life: troubled relationships, thwarted hopes and desires, regrets, shortcomings. But let them take up less space than my gratitude and joy when I perceive the tender and tiny miracles that surround me each day.
This evening I learned of the death of a special friend. He was a mustang quarter horse and his name was Romeo. I met Romy in 2005 when I attended a three-month class called Women's Intuitive Horse Riding at Blue Skies stables in Chapel Hill. Deborah Pearson-Moyers, the instructor, allowed me to follow my heart's desire: to seek, as an adult, the answer to why I had so longed for horses when I was a child. In the most painful years of my childhood, I had an imaginary horse named Ronnie who greeted me at the door when I went outside, and stayed by my side while I roamed the woods beyond my house. In 2005 the deaths of my mother and closest friend left me feeling very much like the frightened child I'd been at eleven. At age 57, I decided to pursue a special relationship with a real horse. I was not disappointed. Romeo welcomed me, nickering softly, the first day I attended class. His wisdom, kindness, and willingness to share his life with me was remarkable during that enchanted spring. Almost every person, child or adult, who met Romeo felt the loving and generous soul of this incredible horse and became a better person for it. I wrote this poem for Romeo four years ago. Rest in peace, dear and treasured friend. I love you.
