What happens...stuff happens.
Sharon thought it must be the most wonderful time of the year, as the air crisped, and it was too warm for ice to form on the tank, but cool enough that a sweatshirt felt good in the morning.
This was her meditation time, she thought of God, she thought of the Creator, said her prayers. A Black Angus steer ambled up warily, took his postion at the tank as far as he could from her and still drink. He purposely ignored her, she watched as he drank his fill, her mind distracted.
It would soon be time to wake, Jon. He left her to do the early morning simple chores,absently she shut the water off at the corral pump, walked to the old wooden gate that would lead back to the house.
Some would call him a cowboy, but whatever he was she had lived with him for 12 years now. When he took the job, she came along, because she was his roomie, and friend.
Sharon soon learned that she was expected to work too, not that she minded so much . It was just she was a not quite. Not quite in tune with the land, not quite in tune with the critters, never quite knowing how to deal with isolation., all of which were part of the life. She grew into it, though, not a perfect fit, but good enough to get by.
She started to think on the things that had brought her here. The marriages ended, finding out an ex had abused her children.
Change and more change.
Last of all, but not least, the finding out that her body had rebelled. Finding out she had Lymphedema, and she changed physically.
Rounding the corner to walk into the house,opening the door...The old movie cliche': "Saddle up! Day's a wasting" came to mind. She called: "Jon, time to wake up."
©2005 Carol McFarland. Used with permission.
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