Kristine E. Brickey

Wednesday began beautifully, an early trip to bring Chad back from Sparrow after his successful surgery the day before. It was a great morning, and in early afternoon the sun broke from the clouds to warm the outside air and begin drying muddy pastures. Eager to enjoy the unusually warm March weather, my steps were light as I went to my horse tack stored in the trailer, grabbed Cinder’s halter and lead, and headed to where she stood in the center paddock.  She always lets me approach, but I’ve noticed lately when I have the halter she isn’t as bright eyed and excited. I want her to come to me, for it to be a mutual connection, so I took my time, allowing her to walk her one or two steps before moving around her shoulder and urging her to draw to me. For awhile, Cinder stood at the back fence, calm, yet not ready to commit. Rather than rush her, I released a sigh, breathed away any negativity, and stood beside her watching the back fields together.  All was calm until her inquisitive na

     Dreams are bringing my lost ones back to me this week. It has been wonderful and difficult and each night fill my heart with soft melancholy and joy.       Sunday I spent a beautiful day with my Aunt Judy. We relaxed and chatted, laughed and remembered Robbie. She sent me home with a framed multi-photo that I'd given to my sweet Polish Grandma years ago. There are six pictures with Katie, Robbie, and I and each makes me smile even as I write this post. I wondered later if this visit was the catalyst for my dream.      That night I dreamt of Robbie. He was young, maybe 8 or 9, and we were together searching out a new martial arts gym for him, debating one over another. In the dream, Robbie was thoughtful and charming as he used his 'but Ma...' skills to convince me it was worth driving an hour each way to the gym he preferred. It was in Linden. I have no idea where these details came from, but in my dream it didn't matter. I woke, and it took a few minutes before I