Sometimes mares just know...

I pulled on my barn boots the other day for the first time since July.

I injured my knee earlier in the summer, which required surgery and made me very dependent on others  for help. I am fortunate enough to have a loving, helpful husband and fabulous friends that were there to help before I could even ask for it. But of all the things I missed,  riding and spending time with my mare made my heart hurt the most, like a piece of my soul was missing. If you don't ride horses, it's tough to explain the connection we have with them.

 I remember going out to see Rosie about five days after surgery and sobbing large  tears of ache and frustration because I couldn't do anything but stand in front of her stall. And then, as if in answer, she laid her massive grey head on my chest, closed her eyes and exhaled a giant breath as if letting go of a great burden and comforting me at the same time, letting me know that she was my partner, and my teammate through it all.

Yesterday, finally free of crutches, I stepped into the barn and inhaled the sweet scent of hay and horses. I walked out to the pasture, enjoying the fact that I was alone and the barn was quiet except for the  mew of newborn kittens and the gentle breeze blowing through the barn.

I went out and lead Rosie in from the pasture and cross-tied her and set to work grooming her massive body. By the time I was done I was covered in hair, dirt and Rosie slobber and was very happy about it. But, I've noticed a change in her over these few months. She is extra careful with me, she walks a little slower, she doesn't nudge me for treats and if I get off balance while we are walking she subtly leans into me so I can use her for support. But most of all, her gaze never leaves me. She watches me constantly like a mother hen.

After I finished grooming I was ready to put Rosie back in her pasture, but when I asked her to move off and follow me out she just stood there, a concerned look in her eye. I stepped closer, asking if she was Ok. Her ears twitched in answer to my question. Then as if on cue, she used her head to bump me to her neck, which I encircled with my arms in a hug, inhaling her sweet horse scent, letting all the stress, fear, pain, anxiety and other emotions weep out of me. I felt her neck bend and she "hugged" me back, letting out a sigh. We stayed like that for a few minutes in the quiet of the barn. And, then she moved off, obviously anxious to get back to her friend Darcy in the pasture.

As I drove home I realized I was one of the lucky few to have a horse that knows me so well, and I her. And I smiled.

Sometimes, mares just know...

The Sundays: Wild Horses