My zebra sister and I are rarely spend more then a couple days apart. I usually see her almost everyday and never less than a couple times a week. I try to schedule my time that way. I do this partly out of habit, and partly because I hate not seeing her for long periodsof time.
Not long ago, I spent much longer away from Holly than usual. I stopped by to see her on my way to the airport to let her know that I would be gone for a while, but not to worry. (And to stay out of trouble.)
The day I returned, I was eager to stretch my legs and get fresh air after spending an extensive amount of time in airports and on airplanes. I decided a walk at the ranch would be the perfect remedy.
While I had been gone; summer had finally arrived in Ohio. The monotony of grey days and rain and mud had been replaced with sun and heat. The spring buds that we had waited for so long for had exploded and everything was lush and rich with green and growth.
Whenever I’ve been away from the ranch I take my time in reacquainting myself and especially with Holly. I let her decide the timing of our reunion and it usually takes longer than I like. But I understand that things are never exactly as I left them, and maybe in my time away I have changed as well. I use the time to see everything with fresh eyes.
As I followed the path that skirts the woods and runs along the pasture fence I was surprised at how much had changed in my absence. Winter had left wreckage strewn through the forest in the form of branches and fallen trees. The familiar trails had been unusable in many places and the late arrival of spring and then summer had left the impression that maybe the forest would never recover; maybe the vision of the destruction would never be erased. However, in the time I had been gone the forest had exploded. The grass had grown up over the rails of the fence, almost hiding in. The vegetation was so thick that the path was barely visible. To the left the forest was so thick; it seemed like a wall of grass and trees. The damage from winter was hidden by all the new growth.
I was surprised when I heard a familiar tiptoeing through the grass next to me. I looked over to see Holly was slowly walking the fence-line with me. Her ears were flicking, and her tail was gently swishing but she didn’t seem to be asking anything of me, just walking. I paused to admire how she too had changed physically; the brownish fuzzy winter coat she grows was shedding to reveal her black stripes again. She paused too look at me too. It was a familiar look, one I’d seen my own horse give me when I’d returned from long absences. To me, it almost said, ‘Well yes, I know it’s you. But are you the same?’ I said out loud to her, just in case it would ease her mind. ‘Yes Holly, it’s me.’ And then we were walking again. Side by side, separated by the fence.
As we walked, I wondered if I would have noticed all the changes if I had been here to see them. Would I have noticed how beautiful the daisies were sprinkled through the field? Or would I have noticed the slow disappearance of the signs of winter? What changes I had missed that I couldn’t see?
I was reminded of a client that worked with a member of Holly’s herd, Spirit. Spirit is a small paint mare with clear opinions. She can always be trusted to be clear about her own yes’s and no’s. This particular client had worked patiently with his group to build a rapport with Spirit; eventually earning her approval and moving into a closer relationship. And then they went to lunch. When they came back, they were surprised with Spirit greeting them with pinned ears and a nip. ‘But she liked us before!’ they exclaimed as they worked to process this change in Spirit. Finally one of the client’s spoke up; ‘We’ve been gone. Who knows what happened while we were inside. Maybe we just need to reintroduce ourselves and start over, letting her know we’re exactly the same and we want to include her.’ Sure enough, when the group stepped back Spirit softened and they were able to reacquaint themselves with her and finish their day. As we were processing at the end of the day, the client again mentioned the importance of his lesson with Spirit. ‘I’ve been gone from home for almost 2 weeks. I bet my wife feels the same way Spirit does sometimes-you’ve been gone and things are different but you just charged in here like everything is the same. I bet she would like a minute to tell me about what happened while I was gone.’ I was struck by the clarity and application of this lesson.
When Holly and I reached the end of her fence she simply turned around and walked back to where her Grandfather horse was still grazing. It might have not seemed like much, but those moments walking after the questioning look reconnected us. We might not have needed words to explain to each other what had happened while we were apart, we simply needed the space to reintroduce ourselves. We needed space to acknowledge everything that had happened but also to know that it hadn’t changed who we are to each other. We spent time together, aware of change and respectfully coming back together again.
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