Babygirl and I repainted the downstairs of the house last year. Furniture rearranged. And we bought each other a frame TV for Christmas (honestly, not one other gift, not even Reeses trees for the stockings). It's lovely, and we can either set it to some piece of art or have it rotate through seasonal artwork, which is what it has been doing since Thanksgiving.
This morning the art became more....springy, and I was suddenly looking into the eyes of a bay horse with a white star on its forehead.
When I was about 14, we moved from a village to the country. Among the many changes? I finally got the horse that little girls spend their lives dreaming about. She was a miscellaneous brown horse, in a little rough condition. I fed her up, treated the saddle sores with twice daily Epsom salts, and brushed out the winter fur. It turned out that under all of that, she was an amazing bay (red) with a white star and socks.
The horse in the picture clearly was not her, and I honestly don't think I have a photo of her. But....living in the country with a horse? There were a couple of other girls in the area that had horses, and I made friends with people I might not otherwise have met.
That picture took me back to a far less complicated life. I spent hours riding with Becky all through the woods and fields within a 5 mile radius of home. Becky and I loved each other, our horses, and our lives. We had a lot in common: Our dads were strict and somewhat frightening. Our moms became friends. We did sleepovers and helped each other with chores. My horse was terrified of water and hers liked to swim. We took falls, got concussed, and kept on riding regardless of season or weather.
When I went away to college, the horse was sold. I still hope she was treated well, but there was a little girl involved, so....
The sight of that picture made me cry. I miss it all: My home, my parents, my younger self, the simplicity of it all, and Becky. She and I lost touch until the miracle of the internet made us intersect. We admire each others grandchildren and observe each others lives.
We remain more-or-less quiet about how different we are from each other. We share a blessed history, a million experiences, and a memory of years of close and loving friendship. But we are currently on completely opposite poles of the political and scientific spectrum. We haven't had a live conversation in over 30 years. A deep and abiding love for each other keeps us respectful, I think.
But in addition to childhood loves and memories, I miss the world in which there was a time when a discussion of Carter vs Ford (which I think really never came up between us as high school students - I voted for Carter and she was too young to vote) would have been an intellectual exercise with intersectional agreements and not an area with almost no common ground at all.
I miss the fact that we as a population could have friends in both parties without tiptoeing around the volitility and vitriol, or in fact, even noticing that someone voted differently.
I am certain that different life experiences lead us down different paths. Understanding that we can have similar upbringings and radically different outlooks is entirely intuitive. Why are we still friends? Because if we all give up on what connects us, the country will never heal. If we cannot discuss what unites us, we will never overcome what divides us. If one half of the country continues to believe that the other half has lost its ever-ducking-mind, well.....
Sometimes what holds us together is betting on the bay mare and a pinto pony.
I'm know she prays for me. I pray for her as well. And we both pray for our country.
DeeDee
