detail of monoprint

I dated a cowboy once.

Or twice.

It was wild.


I’d drive out to the ranch and awkwardly (but trying to look cool) crawl up on the white horse.

My friend had all the cool stuff: stained hat, spurs, chaps if I was lucky, well worn gloves..

I had taken hours to lay out my outfit hoping to buffer my urban-ness with a patina you just can’t manufacture.

We’d ride out.

We galloped down arroyos (sandy run-off dry creek beds that flood when it rains),

I just held on, really.

I was enchanted with the whole thing but never really found my seat.

We’d stop for a rest by a secret pond somewhere.

I remember a sweet moment when he finally took off his hat.

And he was balding.

He was so shy about it.

But I didn’t care and loved that he wanted to reveal that to me.

I felt free back then.

Sexy and free.

And a total poser.

I was out there on the stage with wind in my hair,

Tan-from-a-can and a new plaid shirt.

The energy I put in to making myself up for that theatrical performance each time I saw him was exhausting.

It was really just the freedom-thing I wanted.

And I still want it.

Want it, I do.

But I need help getting up on a horse.

And help grocery shopping and steadying myself in the shower and walking my dog.

Weirdly enough, I actually do feel more free now than ever before.

And it is because I AM FREE OF THE POSER.

Not entirely.

But certainly getting there.

If it has taken MS to get me here.. then bless the damn thing.

But please make it stop. now.

So I can ride wild again.


3 Responses to “Freedom”

  1. Barry on December 3rd, 2010

    yeah, you’ve definitely taken your hat off.

    best, B.

  2. Laura Hegfield on December 3rd, 2010

    oh sweetie….I know, I do know.

  3. webster on December 4th, 2010

    Yeah, Bless the damn thing; it can stop now.
    I fell that same way.
    At least you got to be a poser cowgirl for awhile.
    Probably wouldn’t be your thing these days anyway.
    Just part of your life story.

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