Millennium Moon

Three of us rode to celebrate the last Full Moon of the Millenium. A large, brilliant magical moon, closer to the Earth then normal, which was closer to the sun then normal, on the longest night of the year. We went for the sheer joy of life and living and we went to create memories. Memories, if needed, that could carry us through the dry times of our futures.

Starting out after full dark, wrapped and layered, blowing white breath into the unbelievable large, white, rising moon, we casually walked. Easily walking and casually talking, we passed behind the house and through an open gate. Picking up a soft jog, we stayed to the edge of the kline field, marveling at ourselves, proud that we were not unappreciative of the wonders of nature.

Into a lightly wooded section, the low, early moon throwing sharp, contrasting shadows with the bare oak trunks and branches, we slowed our pace, and conversation. The trail widened and we nudged the gait back up, a little, and a little more. Keeping our pace, we tested ourselves through a small patch of blackness, and then another, and as the trail twisted we headed up our little 'Mountain' at a big hard working trot, with a great blowing breath for each stride . The normally majestic view from the plateau was literally enchanting, and impossible to pass without pausing for a moment to honor the Creator.

Topping the crest, each of us silhouetted only instantly against the whiteness, we plunged over the edge, down the short side. Four hundred feet of loose rock and gravel, too steep to climb up, no stopping, no turning back, with the Millennium Moon at our backs, we dove into our own shadows. The long slide eased into a meadow. We crossed the grazing, trotting again and loping, pulling the reins, asking for more as we angled to meet the usual trail. Adrenaline rushing, heads up and tails flagging, we challenged ourselves to the race, but easily turned from the track, to follow another incline into the cedar.

The Bobcat trail, as it winds and dips, rambles through hoary cedar, gnarled and twisted, hiding goblins or fairies, maybe trolls or sprites. Perhaps the old stories are true, of the Lovers, we wonder. The moon should be good tonight, to show us the oak that celebrates their names. But, pausing to graze, and to watch, they will keep their secrets, as will the chimney and hearth, all that is left of a busy stagecoach station. A secret hope dashed that the brilliance lighting our way could penetrate the years, at least give us the shadows of their stories.

By now the Moon is full up, the ranch roads literally glowing, reflecting the suns light back to the moon. We Gallop across the back of the world, the undulating hills contracting and expanding that world, as we top each horizon then plunge, again, below it. The endless blanket of diamonds above us, never changing. We are all very warm, jackets open. It is a perfect night, absolutely clear and cool, with only a light breeze.

Continuing, into the Wild Lot, testing and teasing as we gallop the soft, wide, side trails, and across the back, until we come to the Interior Trail. A token discussion, as is it very thickly wooded, and difficult to follow, even during the day, but there is no backing out.... This is the ultimate night ride, and nothing can be left for regret. Taking the lead on a loose rein, we walk out of the intense moon, under the heavy canopy. Slowing my walk, slightly swaying my head, searching, watching, carefully staying on the narrow, twisting trail. The loud rustling of the leaves makes chatting difficult and we each travel with our thoughts, trusting ourselves and each other. Carefully, never missing the path, I carry her, leading the others. Pride in her trust, pride in his confidence and reliability, the warm companionship envelopes us. Although we have glimpses of the brilliant moon through the branches, the light can't penetrate to the floor, not into the deep washes that the trail crosses and follows, and not into the heavy cedar and oak.

Coming out of the last thicket into the meadow, the moon is brighter, more welcome then ever, inviting another gallop, which we unequivocally accept. We answer the challenge of the brilliant night with wild abandon and thundering hoofs. The bitter cold almost unbearable on bare skin, but welcomed by hard, fit muscles, doubly warmed by heavy winter coats and exhilarating work. Huge, expanding nostrils eagerly gulp the sharp, winter air. Usual bonds blur and fall away, limitless, we soar. As we travel in the ancient, yet ageless, timelessness that engulfs us, we intensify. The strength and the power of his four legs and large heart, the clarity and focus of his discerning mind, the complexity and wonderment of hers, the unusual sensations of clothing and the chill on skin, the hold on the reins felt through gloves... did we merge into one? did he absorb me, did she become me? Was there an exchange or did we simply touch and share as we are meant to do?

Coming back to reality... (or leaving it... ) alternating our lopes and trots, we finally pull down to a quiet walk and head back to the ranch house. We are cooled off and thankfully, the water had been put on, and is ready for us, boiling when we come in, with oversized ceramic mugs on the table, and a good supply of hot chocolate, marshmallows and whip cream.

The Experience etched in us, the coveted Memories, and something more. In our Arrogance, we sought to create a small thing to carry as we age, crawling towards a dry and dusty death. Instead, we were Blessed and Humbled, opened and expanded, in the Magical Illumination. Allowed a brief touch, a glimpse of eternity in an endless moment, a chance to grow, should we recognize and embrace such a gift.

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authors note: I struggled for a proper ending to this story, wrangling thoughts and paragraphs, trying to finish it in a way that would earn a good grade from the ever-present English teacher living in my past. It finally occurred to me, that, properly, this story has no ending, that is part of the gift, and the growing. That if there is a closure on one age, or one level, it is to open another... all very intimate and personal to each reader, as well as to myself. I brought you here, enriching myself in the giving, it is for you to take it forward, either to a closing, or, hopefully, a beginning.

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