Commitment

When I was younger, after leaving mom, dad and brother behind in Wisconsin and moving to California, things changed around me all the time. I was restless. I changed jobs a couple times, changed boyfriends multiple times, changed residences three times in approximately 18 months. (Once I moved because I wasn’t supposed to have a cat and I got a kitten. Easy choice to make, the kitten or the apartment…)

This trend continued through my 20’s, 30’s and early forties. I moved from California to Colorado with my then-boyfriend-soon-to-be-second-husband. In the 15 years I lived there (the first time around), I moved 17 times and acquired and let go of several more husbands. I was a mess. Luckily I didn’t have children, not ever having wanted any. There were a few stepchildren, one of whom I still have a relationship with, and two others who really didn’t deserve to be in the middle of all that chaos. I profoundly apologize, Kristy and Cheryl. You know who you are.

I didn’t even have a job that lasted for more than five years. That seemed to be my limit. (It was shorter with relationships of the human variety.)

Then I discovered the “c” word - commitment. I stopped running and turned to face all the things that kept me on the move. It was the hardest thing I ever did, to look at who I was showing the world and let who I really am, out. It’s a scary, vulnerable place to be. But nothing good happens without a little effort.

Glenn and I are into year 34 of our marriage. I stayed at my last place of corporate employment for 15 years. We’ve been in our current house almost 8 years, the longest I’ve lived in one place since I left my Wisconsin home. I’ve never had trouble committing to cats, but horses were another story, coming and going like bad weather in Colorado. After discovering “c”,  most of the horses have come to stay. LiLi has been with me for 14 years. This may seem odd to someone who has always made a commitment and stuck with it, but that was not me. I had to learn. I’m still learning.

All of this preamble is to say goodbye to the woman who has cared for my horse’s feet for the last I don’t know how many years. It seems like she’s been coming here forever, but I know it isn’t that long. It hasn’t even been a decade, but the difference Bethany has made in the lives of my horses is what I remember.

She’s a straight shooter. She says what’s on her mind. She says what she needs. She probably doesn’t realize this, but I’ve learned a lot from her. 

She has been unfailingly patient and kind with my horses, even when they were being butts and she was having a bad day. This is not to say she let them get away with stuff, but she has a way of saying “cut that out!” that gets their attention. In a good way.

Finn and Bethany got a leg thing going on.

She helped our slaughterpen horse, Finn, learn it was okay for someone to pick up his hind legs. We helped with the other stuff, but as I told her at her last visit, I don’t go where I’m not welcome, and when Finn first came to us, NO ONE was welcome by his hind feet. So she literally was the one who taught him that getting his back feet trimmed was a safe, okay thing. This last visit, he stood quietly, let her pick up his feet, do her trimming, move him around. It’s taken two years. 

And now she’s leaving. Dammit, she has a life and is getting married and moving to the other end of the state. This is a change I definitely did not want.

Finn met the new farrier, hand-picked by Bethany to take over her clients. Holly is a lovely woman and I’m sure will do well. We had her hold Finn while Bethany worked on him. He’s suspicious of strangers he thinks want something from him, so it is to Holly’s credit that he stood quietly and gently snuffled at her while Bethany did her thing. He may regress a little when it comes time for this new person to be working around his hind feet. But I think he’ll be okay. We’re committed to his wellbeing.

Change, when you don’t want it, when you’ve made a commitment to something, is hard. I had no trouble with changing residences, horses, boyfriends, husbands when I wasn’t invested - committed. Now that I’ve learned the joys of being committed to something, it’s hard to let go. I worry about Finn and how he’ll do with this stranger. At the same time, I trust that it is all perfect and for the best, and he’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay. And life will go on.