She blows air through her lips in a heavy puff when she has resigned herself to stop eating grass, or to relax under my meticulous grooming. She has a bellowing snort when she relaxes during a ride, it swells in her sides and comes out in a cascading rush.
When Twilight is nervous she inhales deeply and quickly, the sound she makes is raspy and shallow. I don't know why I have never noticed this before, but I spent at least two hours just listening to Twilight warble.
We are a different pair now that its only Twilight and I, when I go out to the barn, it is almost like being in a bubble, people seem to pity Twilight and I.
Stephanie a hazelnut brown woman who has a very soft spot for animals tacked Twilight and I to an all day trail ride that two other girls named Tish and Becca were going on. There both sweet girls, they laugh and joke and were willing to take Twilight and I along. Tish rides a calm paint named Bruce and Becca a stunning red bay named Marshal. I rode with them out onto the trail, despite my best intentions Twilight and I stayed ahead of them, she didn't even acknowledge the other horses were present.
We made it to a gate and suddenly it hit me, one of those moments where my mind just froze. It felt wrong to be riding with these two girls, they were so much like Margrith and I had been, so close, and I was an outsider. They had packed lunches and intended to go for a long while, since I had none of these provisions I quickly said I wouldn't travel with them any farther. I turned Twilight back to the barn and we parted ways.
A heavy wind picked up as soon as I turned around, and I had to walk Twilight back to the barn on foot since the wind kept her on edge. We walked companionably close to each other on the way back my hand resting on her neck. I'd hurt my knee earlier in the day so our progress was slow, every now and again I would turn around and see the bay and the paint wandering of along the trail. Neck and neck heads bent against the wind, and two girls with trail bags heads turning constantly from looking ahead to chat to each other.
Margrith and I used to talk about everything on the trail, we bashed republicans, discussed gay rights, our dreams for the future, me wanting to be a writer and her wanting to be a fire fighter. I remember one morning we were lounging on towels balanced on towers of hay eating scones and sweet honey talking about our dream boyfriend, dream houses, plans for ourselves and our horse. We were so comfortable with each other, we could have silly girly moments like that and turn around and have a serious conversation about god and whether or not such a being existed. We could talk about fate about death our fears. About our friends our problems, we could laugh and cry together.
I remember the day I was almost scared to death when Twilight escaped me on the trail and ran away for home, over the hole riddled ground, one misstep and she could plunge to the earth her leg broken. When the reigns first slipped from my fingers and she turned and galloped away it was Margrith and Rosie who raced away after her, almost caught her, and then came back for me when Twilight wheeled out of reach. It was Margrith and Rosie who stopped and let me clamber on behind them and ride back over 3 miles clutching to Margrith and cursing like a sailor as we watch the black blur that was my horse running along the horizon and disappearing from view.
We've done so much on the trail rides we've gone on we found a cave, an abandoned train, a pool of water, a hill that when we galloped up it made us feel like we were flying. We raced on tracks of dust in early mornings, when spring had soaked into the ground and cast a velvet green grass over the land. We'd terrified ourselves at a bare back run. Eaten lunch in the shade of a cave, conspired about bandits and rapist hiding within rail cars. Pranced and waved at sunflowers who's heads bobbed at us agreeably. We created plots for NCIS episodes, cantered around in billowing cloaks. We escaped two dust storms without injuries. We rode bare foot and played acrobats with our horses leaping onto their backs when they were laying down and standing on their backs and the walk. We were friends, we were free.
Its the little things I miss, the early morning breakfasts, our adventures, our conversations, the times we laughed at Twilight's antics the large ridiculous grins we'd have on our faces after a good race between Rosie and Twilight. Margrith and Rosie always won, they were bold, vibrant, I was envious of their bravery, but I was allowed to tag along, to share in their triumphs. I think it made Twilight and I a better pair to have to compete with Rosie and Margrith.
I rode with Lynn today and her little black morgan named Dominic. It was jarring. Lynn and I could talk just fine, it was pleasant to talk in the warm weather, but it was also bond by formality politeness we did not ride together one would wait while the other cantered or trotted around the arena.
I miss being a group instead of a pair, I miss hearing David, a bearded show rider call Margrith my sister, I want to watch Rosie lick the morsels of grain from Twilight's bowl one more time, I want to see them run together once more, I wanted to spend a warm afternoon chatting and grooming our first horse together again. I want to come back after a long trail ride in the blaze of summer and drink melted ice cream and soak ourselves and our horses in water. I want to go on a trail ride horses neck and neck and gallop and laugh, I really want to see use laugh and grin ridiculously at each other one more time.
