The stories we tell ourselves

The trip to the barn takes less than twenty minutes. It’s always a pleasant drive because I’m anticipating seeing Captain, excited about lessons and looking forward to seeing the other riders. So, I was thrown off last weekend over an incident that happened on the way.

I was driving slowly (because of the Michigan potholes) and had to move over to the right for oncoming traffic. It was a truck towing a horse trailer which is a common occurrence on these roads. A dark SUV followed closely behind the trailer and at the wheel was a woman crying.

Immediately, I concluded that the horse was ill and was being driven to Michigan State for emergency care. It brought back memories of my own horse loses and it moved me to tears.

When I got into the tack room at the barn, I shared the story with the first person I saw. Her response was, “Maybe you have it all wrong JoAnn. Maybe they were bringing home a brand-new horse, and the woman was expressing tears of happiness.”

I wanted to believe scenario two and since I couldn’t be sure, I went with that.