The horses are disappearing, and I don’t know what to make of it. For six years, I’ve washed dishes to the sight of horses sidling past the wooden fence across the meadow from my kitchen. When I cracked the sliding glass door to catch a spring or autumn breeze, I often heard a soft whinny or snort echo across the grass-filled space between us.
They are quiet companions, and one by one, they have disappeared to some unknown place. There are a few polo horses left, but they spend their days in the pastures beyond my daily view. I don’t know when they began to disappear. I didn’t notice the slow slide into silence. There is no longer a flick of a black tail to catch my eye or the thick stomp of a horse gone momentarily wild. I don’t remember the last time I saw them nuzzled up to a bale of gold-tinged hay.
It’s strange how imperceptibly life begins to change, and when we finally take notice, the change may feel sudden and irrevocable when the truth is, life is a constant ebb and flow. Time is the moon. Change is the tide.
I’d like to know when all of the “lasts” will occur so I might mark them as a moment in which I should pay attention. I’d mark the last time I’d cock my hip to carry my daughter. The last time I’d place the geriatric dog at the foot of the bed in the evening. The last time I’d proofread my son’s papers, or hang a piece of crayon-ed art work with rainbow scribbles. The last time I’d say goodbye to a friend, a relative, a companion. The last time I’d watch a horse bend low for a mouthful of dinner, and chew with lopsided, lazy intention while my hands slip into hot suds and water.
I’d like to know, but I would become a live wire of nerves and anxiety if all of my lasts were lined up for me. It is better to live into them. To choose to participate in each moment, rather than anticipate what comes with the next ebb and flow in this lifetime of lunar cycles.
The horses are disappearing, and I don’t know what will replace them. One morning, a white-tailed buck settled into the wet grass between us. I saw a black cat slink into the shadows in the evening. A flock of birds rose and swooped from their hidden homes among the flora. I stood at the window, caught in the moment, a willing participant.
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