Since I’m almost 40 (3 days to go!) and therefore entitled to not give a flying fuck about what people have to say about me, this week’s HNT is brought to you from horseback.
I bought him not long after I got sober. I was on unemployment, barely scraping by. Â I passed a little antique store near my house one afternoon, coming back from an AA meeting, and saw him there.
No, I’m not a collector of antiques (well, except maybe Franciscanware Desert Rose stoneware and china) but this wasn’t just about an antique. It was about something I’ve always wanted and never had.
A lot of life is like that.
You want something, very very much even, and when you don’t get it it leaves a little footprint somewhere in your heart. And maybe years later…maybe decades later, on the other side of the continent, that little footprint that you so long ago outgrew, or thought you had, resonates for you again.
And a rocking horse big enough for a grown-up to sit on was exactly what my newly dried-out inner child wanted.
SO, she got him.
I negotiated the price down a bit and the nice men in the store agreed to hold him for me until my next Unemployment Benefit check arrived.
OK, sure you might think Â “I am SO ratting her out to the gubmint! You are NOT supposed to spend unemployment money on &^%$ toys!”
And maybe that is true for most people. But in those early days of living life without the haze of booze, I felt so comforted by the sight of this silly horse in the windows of my flat. Â I love rocking on him too. Despite the fact that several overprotective friends were certain I was going to rock myself out of the bay windows, and thought my priorities were somewhat fucked up, I did what Â I wanted to do. For a change, it wasn’t destructive, and it felt good.
I sit on that fucking horse and rock. Sometimes, weeks will go by and I won’t. I run around a lot. I sometimes forget to make time.
Tonight I remembered.
So, there you have it. Â Just one piece of why I keep myself alive one day at a time.
Â So I can rock.