I Remember

I strip out of my sweater, feeling as if I've been awake for a thousand years. I am bone weary, my mind is blank. The sadness feels like it may be my constant companion from here on out. They assured me this day would come, but it is six months too soon, and you are gone from me forever. Through my tears, I notice there are strands of your hair on the shoulder of my discarded clothes, a memento of our last (one-sided) embrace, and it hits me like a blow to the stomach. Your feet no longer amble along the grass, your hair lifting gently in the breeze, but your hair is still on my clothing. It is all I have left of you, beyond the memories.

I remember our beginning, being so excited to be with you that you could have had one foot in the grave and I wouldn't have cared just as long as you were mine. You eyed me suspiciously from across a field, hiding behind a bedraggled tree, hoping I wouldn't decide to approach you. You were a sight, a shock of frizzy grey hair standing at a peculiar angle on your thick head and neck, stubborn lower lip protruding to let others know you were wise to the ways of the world.... and what you didn't have in height you definitely made up for in girth. You were solid and strong like a tank. I was in love.

From the moment you were mine, truly mine, you began to color and shape my life in only the way you could have.

I remember the early days, before you and I had an understanding of each other, when we would tag along with my older sister, much to her dismay. Oh, how she and I would yell in frustration at one another when you would decide you'd gone far enough and literally turn tail for home. Thank goodness those days didn't last for long.

I remember the joy you seemed to derive from being difficult. I still swear that you knew you'd stepped square on my foot that once, and as I tried to push you away, you leaned into me further to mash even more of your gigantic mass on my screaming, throbbing toes. Not many believed my story when I went to school two days later on crutches, but I knew the truth, the hoof-print bruise on my foot told the truth, and the transient pain that remains in my foot tells me it definitely was so.

I remember being so frightened to run with you, uncertain I was strong enough to hold on and not fall. It eventually happened when I least expected, of course, and that was the moment I discovered the wind in my hair, the rhythm in my bones, the melody of your feet on the ground, and the butterflies in my stomach. The butterflies return every time I think about you and I racing through the dirt.

I remember hurriedly riding into the barn on a deep summer's night, trying to escape the dark and the creatures of the night, only to have bats come swooping down at us as soon as we thought we had made it to a safe haven. For once in your life, you seemed to understand the reason for my shrieking, and let me take refuge between your legs while you stood solid as a statue. I am not sure I ever thanked you enough for not trampling me.

I remember watching you from a window as you stood in the middle of the field, your enormous belly shaking from side to side as you danced in place. Some kind of tree once-growing in the field had attracted your attention, and you determined it was just the perfect height for a good belly rub. This hilarious show would last for several long minutes each time you needed a good itch, and almost always drew a crowd of amused onlookers.

I remember one of my favorite outings with you was when we were traveling lazy circles in the hay field on a late evening ride all by ourselves. It was so picturesque, the tall grass rolling in the breeze while the enormous golden harvest moon smiled directly in front of our path. The field is no longer a field, and the grass is no longer tall, but sometimes I wish I could relive that moment.... just once.

I remember you and I following a friend, a cute boy friend, through a whispering corn field in the early winter. Feathery flakes of snow began to float from the sky as we entered the spot we always referred to as "The Pines", a tranquil pond surrounded by a dense grouping of tall pine trees, all seemingly untouched by human hand. As the snow fell down upon us, I remember thinking that it would have been such a romantic time for a first kiss.

I remember learning how to jump obstacles while at a summer camp without you, then coming home to see if you remembered how to do that, too. We must have been fun to watch--you and your bulging sides trying to successfully negotiate a jump made out of plastic flower pots and bamboo poles, and me holding on by a thread because I didn't know better. It was a lot of fun, Pep, and at times I think you were enjoying the return to your youth, too.

I remember the veterinarian saying it was cancer, that you didn't have long, that you couldn't be saved, but we were allowed to play as long as you felt up to it.

And I will always remember that last ride. Your ears uncharacteristically drooped as we turned for home, and your pace never quickened as it usually did. Perhaps you sensed it was the end, as did I. Maybe you wanted our remaining moments to last as long as I did, but you never found the way to tell me so. And it was over, just like that. We never left the farm together again.


So tonight, as I must accept the fact that you will not be waiting for me in the morning, I am holding your grey hair in my hand, rolling it in my fingers. I miss you, my Peppy, and I always will.