Bottle it Up

Riding out before dawn was her favorite. The smell of earth and a hint of rain from the night before permeated the cool morning air, and she could sense that a change in the season was coming. The air was still, without so much as a hint of the wind that seemingly never stopped lately. The smell of leather and horsehair filled her lungs, along with barn dust and her husband's aftershave. She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and swung up in her saddle.

She always loved watching the sunrise from her saddle. It was no different today, although the already blood-red sun was rising faster than she was hoping it would. Soon it would begin to bake the already parched ground beneath her and her horse. As they headed out across the field, a doe and her still-spotted fawns jumped out of their hiding spot and ran a few yards away. She smiled and patted her horse's neck, and trotted towards where her old man had indicated finding at least one of their bulls.

While she hated gathering bulls, the feeling of dread she usually felt when this day came each summer had been replaced by peace. No phone, no meetings, no dishes to wash or laundry to fold; just the crunching of grass under her horse's hooves and the quiet call of a cow to her calf. She hadn't wanted to be here, but was grateful she had opted to help gather, rather than ride her desk chair.

"Bottle it up" , she thought to herself. All of this-the smells, the feeling of peace and anticipation and excitement. "Don't forget how it feels," she could almost hear her momma say. "Bottle it all up so you can pull it out on a hard day". Her momma didn't have much to say most of the time, but when she talked, even the dogs took note. Smiling like an idiot to herself, she reached down and patted her horse, and steadied herself for the task at hand.

Richelle