My brothers and I while cleaning the house, are all standing, facing the chair.
"Do either of you want it?" I ask.
Nope.
It was a quandry. I couldn't simply throw the chair away. 1-It was her favorite. 2-She DIED in it. I didn't exactly want it in my living room, because, well, see #2. I decided to bring the chair home with me. I put it outside, facing the pasture. "Here ya go Mom! You can watch Bucky for a while!" She loved to watch Bucky, who wouldn't?
The thought of her contentedly watching Bucky in the afterlife gave me a certain amount of peace. I told Randy that when I was ready I'd hold a small ceremony to burn the chair. The summer passed, and that did not happen.
Now it's fall, and we're finally able to close out the estate. It's brought about some mixed feelings for me as I never expected or wanted to be in this position, that of having an inheritance. As much as I'm grateful, it makes me sad and uneasy. It's not how things were to have been.
And then, yet another unexpected turn of events in what has proven to be an unusually eventful year. Many of which were unpleasant. This one was not. A parcel of land came up for sale near our house. The owners bought this land in 1971 with dreams of eventually building, but never did and had decided to sell. In their absence I've hacked over it many times.
What would being able to purchase that land mean to me? Almost too much. Over the years I feel I've spent a lot of time and effort to try to become a decent dressage rider. Not "Ruth going to work for Rehbein effort", but working hard, traveling a lot and trying my hardest to learn effort. For years upon years. One of the things that required me to work harder once we moved to the North Ridge is that I don't have a ring to ride in at home. I hacked in the fields when I could, trotted in a crop 20m circle around Posey's trees, have even trailered out routinely but it's not the same as having a 20mx60m flat space on site to work in. I tried to not use it as an excuse, to me it meant I had to be more creative when I rode. I was OK with it. Until this spring.
I had been on what I was calling "my sabbatical" from riding as I was feeling burned out and had lost my passion. I still rode. Not nearly as much. More like barely. Whenever I rode I would still work diligently. Meghan's voice "go back to straight!" Ruth's voice "Pirate!" ( ;) ), among many others! But there was still part of me that was dragging my feet. The final nail on my coffin was when the footing was re-done at the outdoor arena where I would truck in to ride. Gelin didn't go well in it. He'd go well at home, but the footing there was deeper than he was used to and it felt like he was struggling. I didn't have the heart or drive to ask him to work in it. So we hacked. And hacked. And had a great time. Even then I still practiced while hacking.
All the while thinking "I've spent the past 20 years wanting to ride dressage, WTF is wrong with me?"
Being able to buy this land means I get to have a riding ring. It didn't truly sink in at first, but as the days have passed and now that the P&S has been signed, the reality has awoken. I get to ride a diagonal. On good footing. I can set my jumps up and scare the crap out of myself. The dream has changed from hacking to "I hope I can put some mirrors up so I can make sure I'm not doing that funky thing I do at sitting trot!"
If my mother hadn't passed away it would not have been possible for me to buy the land. It's the most amazing gift I've ever been given and I'll never forget that.
When it's all said and done, I'm going to take her chair and put it in a quiet corner near the ring, under the canopy of the maples. So she can watch. Thanks Mom, I hope I can make you proud.
No comments:
Post a Comment