Rides, Rails & Missing Pieces

He's either deeply in love or plotting an escape

This week held a little of everything. Dirt under my fingernails. A strong horse under me. Sweet T beside me on the Tilt-A-Whirl. And somewhere in the middle of all that, two puzzle pieces gone missing and not a single soul to blame.

Monday I went to line dance class with all the older ladies. They played country music loud enough that you could feel it in your ribs, and half the time I was a step behind, but no one cared. I stayed quiet, grinned, and kept up best I could. There's good fun in showing up where no one’s trying to impress anybody.

From Wednesday to Friday, I barely spent a minute inside. I picked the snap peas clean and pulled the rest up by the roots. It’s gotten too hot for them now. I tied up all the tomato plants and drove T-posts into the ground to build new fencing. I planted two more rows of green beans right along those fences and gave everything a long drink from the hose.

It was a week of hands full and clothes dirty. I weeded until my legs were jelly and my back sassed me, but I reckon that is a good sort of ache. One that stays with you long after the sun’s gone down.

On Friday, I got back on a horse for the first time in a few years. I used to ride all kinds: barrels, jumping, western pleasure, but never a Paso Fino. I forgot how small they actually are. That little stallion felt low to the ground, but smooth once I figured out his gait. It took me a minute, but once I locked into rhythm, I could feel it click into place like a gear. I haven’t missed much in the past few years, but I realized on that ride, I missed this. If that stallion had been for sale, I wouldn’t have even asked the price, he'd have come home with me then and there.

I told Sweet T later that night, once he marries me, I want to get a Paso Fino or two of our own. He didn’t flinch, not even blink. Either he’s deeply in love or deeply afraid of telling me no, and at this point, I’m not taking questions.

That evening we went to the fair and rode all the big rides, the ones with harness bars that rattle when you get in, and swings that take your feet over the parking lot lights. We walked past fried candy bars and lemonade stands, past pigs in pens and goats chewing their fence wire. We petted every soft-nosed animal and hollered loud on the rides. Then the clouds rolled in, and we got gone before the rain hit.

On Saturday we came back to the fairgrounds for the horse show. I taught Sweet T what to look for in the racking horses, how to watch where their feet land, and when they’re truly in gait. One class came through, and sure enough, he picked the winner before the ribbons hit the air.

There’s something kind of nice about working that long on something and not having it come out perfect. A little aggravating, sure. But it was all right.

On Sunday we went to church, then came home and finished the 1000-piece puzzle we’d been picking at for a month. It was a map of the Smoky Mountains National Park, one of those old-style kinds with tiny towns and squiggly lines that all blur together after an hour. We’d worked on it every weekend like it was a second job. Finally got it down to the last few pieces... and came up short by two.

No matter how many times we checked the floor, flipped the cushions, or shook out the dog bed, those pieces were just gone. We sat there for a long time anyway. I think we both knew that was the last time we’d be putting that one together. It was funny, working that long on something and not having it come out perfect. A little aggravating, sure. But it was all right.

I love the pace to a week like this one.

It starts with music and ends with a finished puzzle. It holds sweat and dirt, rides and ribbons, roots in the ground and a little bit of love handed back to you in the small ways. A man learning to spot a winner. A map with two pieces missing. A garden row planted with your whole back aching.

You don’t need everything to go perfect for it to be a good week or weekend.

Sometimes it’s the off-beat steps and undone corners that make it feel just right.