This post will be a mishmash of things. I already know that because I've started it while we're waiting on the vet and I'm sure that I'll have to save it and come back later. Not just because the vet will arrive and I'll need to be there, but because this is probably my last chance to go out and meet the vet to deal with one of Castalia's horses.
The last time.
I've had so many last times recently, it seems, and not nearly enough first times to make up for it.
At least, that's how it feels at the moment.
When I first got a job at the farm, I couldn't imagine working somewhere every day. Thirteen years later, I can't imagine not driving down the driveway every morning. It's not even like moving away because once the property is sold, it will belong to someone else, someone who doesn't want strange teary-eyed women driving up their driveway just to reminisce. Then I'll have nothing but photographs and my own memories, which will fade in time, to look back on.
But I was here. And it was wonderful. And it has changed me forever. And will keep changing me throughout my life, the way things do.
But that doesn't help much right now. When everything is so new. So hurtful. Even knowing it was going to come to this.
And at this precise moment (I know, because I just checked my email) I don't even have a request for a full - a request for ANYTHING to make me feel better about the void of empty space that is me-without-the-farm that I'm moving into. I mean, obviously I'm going to write until they pry the pen from my cold dead fingers. But it's nice to tell myself that some day, I'll write as my job, and not around the other job that I have. That even if I still do have another job, my writing will be the center of my world, instead of an orbiting planet. But I'm a realist, if an optimistic realist, and I'm going to have to look at the possibility that GMG is not going to be 'the one'... which means shelving it and going back to the drawing board. Which I can't handle at the moment. So for now I'm going to crank 'Holding Out For A Hero' on my iPhone and pretend like something awesome might still show up in my inbox.
But back to the farm, and all of that. Realistically, I could write for pages and pages about the farm. About all of the things that went on, the experiences and the growing I did while here. I could tell you hysterical stories (some of which could, maybe, show up in some format, some day, possibly, is all I'm saying) and tragic stories. Tales of cranky old lady ponies and spry babies who tried to stand before they even cleared their mommas womb.
But I won't do that. Instead, I'll bow out before I start to ramble. Which, technically I've already been rambling because it's taken me several days to write this post. This next week will be an interesting mix of straightening up around the house and acclimating to things, so I'll have time to post again, and I fully intend to start getting that done on a weekly basis rather than letting it lag, as I have been the last few months.