Tonight, as I was closing down the store, I mentioned to Ron that I was worried about tomorrow. I told him you always called me and sang to me. I stood there crying asking him, “How am I going to get through this with no phone call. She always called and sang.”
“Well, Marla….,” he said with that totally John Wayne twang of his, “just think about her purty singin to ya tomorrow.”
“I said she sang to me, Ron. I never said it was good.”
Then we both started to laugh and he reminded me to keep laughing. He told me to try and find the laughter in the middle of all this swirling pain. This made me think of horse poop.
Do you remember how I have always loved the smell of horse poop? It is one of the best smells on earth. It makes me think of Aunt Meta and the ranch, riding Pokey and playing outside all summer long. I absolutely love the stuff. I got to thinking tonight how this whole dead sister thing is such a pile of crap. Then I thought about what Ron said and about horse poop and well, maybe I am just focusing on the wrong type of crap, because I love horse poop and it’s definitely crap. Somehow though, I seem to be able to find wonderful things in it, like memories I cherish. Just the smell of it makes me smile or tear up with happy thoughts. I have even seen wildflowers sprouting from Dunnie’s poop. No seriously, sometimes when I am out walking with her in the back pasture, I have come across old piles of her poop with beautiful, delicate wildflowers coming straight out of the middle of them. How could anyone not love the stuff?
Do you think that’s possible? Could I find wildflowers in the pile you left my life in? If I ever stop crying for more than five minutes, I just might try to ride this new horse with no name.
Please come home now.
I love you,