That's What the Trail is Like

Dewey and I went with the psychologist who has the white horse on a trail ride the other day. I've been scared to go, scared is in fact the way I do everything, so even though I'm still surprised to SEE scared every day, she is in fact, assigned to me. This trail I had never been on, and thank God no one told me about it. She says on the way in, well, it's a little narrow, and there are bushes that will scratch us on the way through - but I thought, well, I'm in it now. There's a horse in front of us, so that's the brakes. He can't barrel ahead. All I have to do is try and sit deeply, and remember to breathe. Turns out Dewey is an AMAZING trail horse. We went through a river up to his knees, with a rocky bottom. We went throught it like four times, because we had to keep crossing through it, because this trail was like a video game, it zig zagged, there were low hanging branches, we had to bend way down to our horses' necks to avoid getting knocked off, we had to turn tightly around stumps and bushes and scraggly trees - we were on a deer trail in the thick of the woods. Even though you could hear Wentworth Blvd and the cars going by about four horse lengths up the hill and away from us, down in the river, we were in Maine. Dewey will do anything you ask of him. He takes in anxious situations by looking at them with clear, thinking eyes, and then listening to you. If you say go ahead, he GOES AHEAD. He turned and angled and trudged and bent around tree branches and went down hills and up hills and we didn't get stuck on our stirrups or banged off or poked into the sky - we got through it. After a trechearous section he would sometimes say what I felt - it's like he held his breath to get through a tangle of trees and vines, and when we got to a more open section, he would sigh, a short sigh like "OKAY. Shew. Did you see that? Okay. Whew. Did it." I felt the same way he did. He just expressed it better. When he sighs, I see him. I see what he's thinking! I take a breath. I relax my legs. We are almost the same person. Both hostages of the trail, wide-eyed little orphan Annies. Screwed up our courage. Pummelled through. Took a breath. Saw we were somewhere beautiful, floating river, orange red yellow fall leaves. Pummelled again. Breathed again. Beautiful again. That's what the trail is like. This horse gives me courage and confidence. He is sure, usually, most of the time, that we can get through it. And when he's not sure, I get down off of him, give him a carrot and lead him through the scary parts. Then he's sure. Cause we trade off being brave. And we're together.