You taught me how to read the forest. You showed me how to choose the right flowers for juice. You taught me to discover frog eggs. Standing still on the grass after summer rains, watching the deer. You taught me how to handle horses. You taught me how to listen to their voices and how to talk to them. You taught me how to stand up, not to be angry even after the worst falls.
You taught me about garden athletics, and how I was not satisfied with the cat hunting it. You showed me when to pick blueberries so they are sweet but still a little sour. I eat carrots straight from the garden. Even when I grew up, I still slept in your arms. I shared all my secrets with you and called you the smallest things. For years, I used to listen to your breathing at night, just to make sure you were still alive. After the accident, I was afraid to ride horses, just to make you happy.
But then I grew up. I am sorry for that.
I’m sorry I started to create my own life. I’m sorry I began to feel excited about my own adventures. I am excited about forests and woods around the world, my own garden, and horses that are not yours. I’m sorry I traveled for a long time. I’m sorry you cannot understand that I love my partner. I am…