6 posts tagged “sadness”

Ericka's mare had her filly on Friday.  She was born with complications and died at three days old.  She was beautiful.

Now I found out my first pony died in December. The girls at my old farm thought someone had told me, but they didn't.  She died while I was home. I could have said goodbye if I had known.

"Somewhere... somewhere, in time's own space, there must be some sweet pastured place. Where creeks sing on, and tall trees grow, some paradise where horses go. For by the love that guides my pen, I know great horses live again."

I remember the newscast like it was yesterday.  Do you remember what your house looks like? Would you want to see pictures of it going up in flames over and over again? No? Then stop asking me if I want to see pictures of the towers burning and falling.  I remember what it looked like.  K? Thanks.

It was exactly this minute six years ago that I turned the TV.  The local news station has a box in the lower left hand corner. It was 9:01am and 74* outside, I still don't know why I remember that.  The World Trade Center was on fire.  I wonder what happened.

Then the second plane hit.

I tried to call home.  I still had a New Jersey phone number and the line were jammed.  I used a friend's phone and still nothing.  I was praying my dad wasn't getting Krispy Kremes inside. I couldn't remember if my brother was back in school or if he was in the train that would be under the building at that moment.  My head raced trying to remember who worked there. Neighbors, my friends' parents, family friends.  I kept trying the phones and sobbing.  Then the tower went down and I lost it.  I had been gone for two months.  That was still my home. That was my dad's backyard-- literally.  I got through to my mom. Dad and Sean were okay. The line was fuzzy and then was disconnected.  Cut off from information again.

My dad had to live with my mom for two weeks because his condo was closed down. When they went back there were inches upon inches of ash all over the place.  He moved not too long afterwards.  You can't wake up in a good mood if out your window sits the reminder of one of the worst tragedies in history.  He lost a lot of friends. A lot of colleagues.

I've never felt so vulnerable before.  Stripped raw. The blanket of security and safety, the thought that we were protected from the outside world-- it's gone.

My dad sent this to me via camera phone tonight, he took it on his way home:

Live well Star, this will always be your farm...

Tomorrow I'm turning 24. Tomorrow we're putting Star down.