I put the red lunge line on top of Blossom’s back, and stand back with no connection between us while she grazes in the backyard.
I see how happy she is when I give her a simple hour with all the grass, maybe she is happy where she is, so long as there is what she wants, she doesn’t need 140 acres of it.
Then she catches eye of something I can’t see in the woods and I see the curiosity spark inside her, once again I am confused. Would she be happy on the 140 acres because she would be able to also find adventures? She does after all get bored here, and her toys are always untouched.
It gets confusing for me when I am trying to convince myself for an idea and against an idea at the same time, I know plain and clear that she would love not having to spend time in the barn during the summer, she would love playing and having all the time with grass. And I also know that the whole idea is farfetched.
I change the subject of thought in my head and I think about her living here with all the vehicles and junk in the backyard, the motorcycles, tarps, and squeaky clothesline, she has come further than I often give her credit for.
I haven’t given myself enough credit either, I decide. I have realized we are a true partnership, because of the trust and love we share, not by the way the picture looks.
Maybe it is time we go for what we want, we go home. I have myself back on the subject, and push it back out of my head the second time, promising myself that I’ll ask my parents opinion on the matter.
I’m tempted to jump up on her back, but I know my struggle to do so would be enough to startle her and cause an accident. I haven’t ever ridden her out of her paddock, and now would be the stupidest time to do so. Instead I look out into the woods and think about how this acre isn’t as bad as I have always made it seem. Apart from the pieces of metals lying around and the old vehicles, I can see trees and green grass, I can feel a breeze.
I wish now, I hadn’t put the place down. Even in its state, it is where I live, and the only part of it that is unbearable is how everything old we have is out in the opening, as if exposing every little secret. But I should know that those secrets are as good as delusions, they show nothing of what is right now.
If only we could speed up the cleaning process of this place.
“Come on Blossy, it’s time to go in your fence so I can feed the animals” I tell her, sad to have to disappoint her.
I walk her into her fence, kissing her on her soft nose and unbuckling the nylon halter. She walks away “Be careful, have fun, I love you” I say, as I say every single time. She finds herself to some short grass, and swishes her tail at the flies.
Sometimes I forget, and it is deadly. Deadly that’s what they say about my bee sting allergy. I always push the fact aside since I don’t allow it to control me, but my family; my mother in particular, uses it to control me. The fact always resurfaces though, as I am lifting shovel after shovel of manure and fine sawdust into the reliable green wheelbarrow it once again doesn’t fail. “How can I go spend time with Blossom if I put her in the pastures, especially alone?” I ask myself. I feel like crying and screaming. Home is like bee central, and I like that about it too. But when it all gets down to the wire I know it will be what the “No” will sit like a big boulder behind.
My mom worries incessantly, but it always seems to be worry that keeps one from being protected the most.
I wheel the wheelbarrow out and behind the barn, I look at the barns old structure caving in and wonder if I’ll be able to hold on as long as strongly as it does. Then I feel movement underneath my palm, I move my hand seeing that the white plastic handle of the wheelbarrow is beginning to split.
Of all the things that change, the wheelbarrow surprised me to be one of them. I hope it is a sign that my life will as well change, from being the same to what I hope will be that summer vacation dream.
My feet are light, but my body is grounded heavily to them. I step watching my feet place themselves on the moist ground.
The grass is only about five inches tall and sprouts up through my toes, but every time I step it feels like I am placing my feet into a cold ocean. I don’t shiver, I’m telling myself in my mind “I have to be quiet, I can’t be found here” over and over again, reassuring myself so I don’t cry.
My eyes feel full of tears, and I feel one escapes and crawls down my face slowly, like torture. It needs to go faster and hide itself. I am lost. I look up, reluctantly when a gust of wind pushes me in the side. I see I am in woods with a grass floor.
The wind scares me so I run; when I run the treetops break into furious flames. Instead of providing light in the darkness, they produce shadowed areas. I slow back to a stop, and the trees calm down, I am relieved until flames fly through the air and land on the grass. Everything in the woods is burning quickly, and roaring loudly.
Then I see a patch of sand, it looks like a path. When I step on the path the sand is hot, it feels like my feet are burning. I follow the path quickly, trying to keep my feet off the ground as much as possible. There is a clearing in the woods and then I am in an open field.
It doesn’t look very large, since it is a perfect square shape. I feel a bit better, but then I see the grass rustling ahead of me, I close my eyes telling myself that I am just imagining things. I squeeze them tighter, feeling tears escape.
When I open my eyes I see a pack of wolves have made a circle around me, and the sunny field is now draped with dusk. The wolves’ eyes glow in the light, and fixate themselves on me. I lock eyes with one of them, it looks like my own eyes I realize, yet it still looks familiar. The wolf whimpers like a puppy, and I see it tucks its tail between its legs before it loses its own balance and falls to the ground.
The ground is covered in snow now, glistening snow that burns my eyes. I see red around the wolf that lies on the ground, and then I look at the other wolves. I try to think of a way to get them to look at the wolf. I convince myself they can help him for me, but they won’t take their eyes off of me. I yell “leave me alone” I see all their eyes, and their eyes puzzle me. I know all those eyes. They turn, looking hurt and disgusted, and they forget about their other wolf. They disappear into the woods that burn.
The other wolf’s eyes are open and still looking at me, but he doesn’t appear to be alive.
I turn my head away and fall when I do; I scramble to get my hands beneath me to boost myself up. I’m in a puddle of water, I’m sweating, and I’m tired. I fall back down and feel the water go into my mouth, as drool feels when it leaves.
“Hope? Hope? Are you okay?” I hear, I open my eyes hesitantly and see the light spilling into my dark room from my open door. My sister, Maggie has her head peaked in. My heart is racing; I’m covered in a cold sweat.
“Yea, I’m fine. Why?” I ask my sister
“I heard you talking or crying or something” she says in a half asleep state
“I was having a bad dream, I guess” I say, knowing I must’ve awaken her
“Oh, alright. Night, love ya”
“Night love ya” I croak, because my mouth is now so unbearably dry
The door creaks; I lay awake seeing the wolf’s eyes staring at me deeply, as if looking inside me for something.
I don’t know if the tumbler in the upstairs bathroom is clean so I rinse it with hot water, it mists up the glass with tiny water droplets.
It reminds me of a windshield when it rains, I inspect it. It reminds me of something else as well but I can’t figure it out.
I’m still tired; I gulp down a cup of cold water remembering how that temperature felt on my bare feet clearly, as if it were real. It is only three am according to what the clock flashes, so I force myself into sleep in my own way; watching horses jump a fence, instead of fluffy white sheep.
... what do you guys think. Too childish? Repetitive? I was just playing around with writing..