Kristine E. Brickey

It's been awhile since I posted. My apologies.  NaNoWriMo kept me busy in November writing Thor, the Mighty Friesian for Reality's Chance Rescue and Sanctuary. F*CK It, I'm 50! is in final revisions/editing stage, with an early 2022 publication date. Drafting, very early stages, of my memoir about my son have been in full swing, and another new project is in the works as well. I've been busy!  Life is stressful, but tonight I was gifted with a bright surprise. This evening I went outside for night feeds.  My old donkey was green faced and happy, while little Red (not so little, like a barrel with legs my sweet boy!) pouted because he always wants more. Cinder finished her feed and I opened the back door of the hog barn which opens onto the middle pasture. I pulled a hay bale down from the top of the stack, swung around, and there was Cinder, half inside the doorway, dubbed the hobbit door due to its size. There stood my mare, chestnut head and shoulders leaning toward...

Fullmoon light seeps through 4 a.m. darkness, Coating grass and field outside like an eerie wintry frost.           I am mesmerized as  strands of mist creep forward, as film noir flower beds disappear, wrapped beneath ghostly blankets.  Palms pressed flat against my window,  what lies hidden in fog meets glassy fingertips.                                     Protected, though I feel the powerful presence. I wait, Wondering as I step backwards;  Wary, even as I am drawn to the mystery. Hypnotized, I watch as it  ebbs away.  The entity dissipates, returning  to its birthplace.

     You know that feeling when something goes awry and you KNEW moments before what you should do, but you didn't? I do, too. Too many times.       It's why I suffered an injury my first day of horse camp in Hungerford on August 13th. I KNEW shortly into the ride I needed to adjust tack, but I brushed my inner warning aside. At the top of a hill I thought, "Get down. Fix the bridle," but there was another group, so I told myself I'd take care of it at the next open area. Bad. Choice. It resulted in the early ending of what was supposed to be a week of riding with two amazing friends and led to weeks of recuperating until I was able to get back in the saddle.      On April 25th, 2021 I brought home my little red Mustang, Cinderella. She's 11, but wasn't gentled or even really handled by people until last fall when Naomi Rutter chose her for Reality's Chance Rescue & Sanctuary Mustang Challenge. Cinder and Naomi won, and Cinder went n...

This little piece came from a place I didn't know was there until I was sitting in Sozo's meeting room with MMWG last week. During another writer's sharing, I suddenly saw my Grandma (pronounced Gra-maw) Brickey sitting in her favorite chair, me and other grandchildren strewn around the floor at her feet. We were listening as she told stories. I jotted down a few words, and kept listening to my friends read. The next prompt was, 'I Needed...'   I loved my Grandma Brickey so much. She was feisty and brave, tender and strong, and though there wasn't much about her life that was 'easy', she always had love and laughs for us. Grandma, this is for you and all of us lucky enough to have you watching over us from the Heavens. I Needed... One of my favorite memories has me sitting at Grandma’s feet, her stories flowing over me. I needed her words, words that painted movies in my head. Uncle Miles as a teen, sliding down the mountain side, a shovel for a sled. My...

The woods called to me, whispers from my childhood. I drove past Charlie’s Apple Orchard, missing the gravel and potholes now that the road was blacktopped. Paved roads now. When I was a kid, it was all dirt until you hit the main roads to the south and east. I remember how Tracy C. and I had to trot her little Shetland mare from her house, her driving the cart and me as safety lookout, until we made it the short distance from her house to the dirt.  Before I knew it, I was pulling into the driveway. There were more houses now than fields, but I pushed away my melancholy and got out of the car. The woods used to be so far away from the house, I thought, as they now loomed too closely behind the barn. The ten acres had seemed so massive, and we loved going so far away from the house as kids, taking the fenced grassy lane along the hayfield until we reached the woods. Now, it took me less than a few to step inside the coolness of the woods. My siblings and cousins spent entire days o...

For years, I have believed and shouted out that there is no such thing as coincidence. What happened this week had simply reaffirmed!  We are supposed to be on vacation this week, floating in the lake, enjoying the view of my horse in the mini-paddock as we laze under the camper awning, laughing with my parents over grilled burgers and brats.  Life happened and we had to stay home. Sad. Life happened and we had to stay home. Whoo!  The multiple events I was going to miss instantly popped into the emptied vacation slots on my calendar.  Making lemonade from lemons. Silver lining.       Thursday morning writing with MMWG in Ionia. Yay!      Friday night, Artist's Umbrella: Art is Shelter. Yay!      Saturday afternoon I can go visit my cousin at the Grand Ledge Arts & Crafts fair and Sunday I can ride my Mustang with friends all day long. Yay! Any of these would have been enough to ease the loss of lazy vacation days...

*Note: This has been spinning around in my head since early June, and then, last night, I listened to brilliant artists speak at The Creative Collective around issues of discrimination, injustice, and equity. I listened to Mason families share horrifying experiences of being attacked and assaulted by racist terrorists, in my own town. This morning, I woke early, knowing it was past time to write this piece. It isn't much. It probably won't change the stock of options. It certainly hasn't erased the images evoked last night or from the card shopping, but writing is what I do, and it will lead to more. Change can't happen if we ignore the world around us. Father's Day was approaching, as I  stood before the cards. Hundreds before me to choose from, I began picking up one, skimming the words briefly, knowing instantly if it was right, for Dad, from me, his daughter. Card after card, almost blindly searching, and then one hit me, perfect I thought, reading the inside ag...