The herd. The stallion. My herd. My stallion.

I watched with my husband a herd of wild horses. Two separate mothers nursed one baby colt. One father, the stallion, watched over his herd. He also knew when to let them just be. The two females loved on each other, they also loved on their baby. One mare loved on the stallion. They greeted each other individually and also ran together as a team. We watched them take turns walking across a creek and then running up a hill. The baby bit the dad, the baby bit the mom. Sometimes babies do! The baby was just being overly playful. Eventually one of the mares rested her head on the baby in a way that somehow told the baby, “ ok that is enough of that.” They were a family.

The park ranger told us that a new horse had joined the wild horses. She was not part of the herd and no one knew where she had come from but she was welcomed. She was loved. My husband and I have seen this herd a number of times now, watching them all interact, the baby grow, the new mare integrated completely like she’s always been part of the family. Watching them I couldn’t see one particular horse in charge. The stallion did, at one point when a human got too close, guide them all away and across the water. Other than that, they each watched out for each other. They each respected each other. No one got left behind as they changed positions or directions. At different times a mare would walk off by herself or the baby would do the same. Each had their alone time and their bonding time.

Tonight I reflected on the behavior and love of this family of horses we watched. Their devotion. I thought about the men in my life. My “herd.” To clarify the difference in tribe and herd: I’ve been chastised by some asshole on wordpress for using the word “tribe.” I will still use tribe as I consider the survivors of abuse who have come together to support each other a tribe of our own. We have a wordpress tribe! Tribe has many definitions and I love the tribe of survivors here! I am proud to be a part of a tribe of survivors. My tribe has given me some sisters. When I say herd I mean root family. My father was far from part of our herd. He was a cowardly pathetic follower. The man had no balls. He was just some piece of shit that some how got my mother pregnant and he paid the bills. He didn’t protect. He didn’t guide. He was rarely present. He walked away at the quickest opportunity he could. Abandoned his herd. He never looked back. Their was no stallion in my original family, their is no doubt about that. It was painfully clear as I looked at this herd of horses, I grew up with no herd. No MAN. No guardian. My mom should have had a stallion and then maybe she would have known how to unconditionally love her herd. My mom should have had another mare that knew the truth, then maybe that little baby, me, could have had something of a herd. But no. Our family was no herd.

The only stallion I’ve ever experienced in my herd is my husband. My new herd. I was accepted into a new herd. By my husband, a true stallion in every way. He protects us, he respects us, he honors us, he cherishes us, he guides us, and his love is unwavering. He also happens to have ripped muscles just like the horse stallion. Muscles that have carried me down to the oceans edge and held me when I was having a seizure. His love for his daughter and me, our love, is just like the horse family. We are a few short in our herd. I wish their was another mare for my daughter. I wish their were another baby. But for now our herd is the three of us.

So, here is to my herd, my stallion, and my tribe. May we go forward as best we can in the love most of us had to find on our own because we were not born into it.

*currently accepting applications for new additions to my tribe and herd.😊


Stream of consciousness Saturday’s word is: Well.
Well, yesterday I felt only gratitude. All day long. This little frog was in the car. He had to be released and the nearest stop was the prayer garden. Stopping at the prayer garden led me to the most beautiful singing bird. Right down the path. There she was. All white with a little markings on her wings. I was told she was a mocking bird. In all of my 45 years I have never seen one before. I held my ipad up and videotaped her song. Then I watched her. She didn’t mind me standing there. She just sang and sang. I walked down the path and found a little white flower in the shape of a butterfly. I found red flowers to add to my “red nature beauties”.I found 5 more red flowers! A red rose, a fire looking flower, and some red pentas. That little frog led me to the prayer garden. I put my hand on the cross in the garden and only felt gratitude.

I made it home in time 4:17 to see the 4:00 flower open. I never walk past her when she is open. I dropped everything in my arms but my ipad which I opened to see exactly what time it was. Sure enough. Just in time to see that yellow flower open.

It was a tree frog day. One had his foot caught in the door. My daughter sung him back to life after I had a long conversation with him! I’d love to add tons of videos frog rescues and frog singing and bird singing but I’m not sure how much space I have for videos. It was a frog day though! A frog led me to a prayer garden. A frog led my daughter to sing.

Then I went for my wheelchair walk. A frog plummeted from the tallest tree on our property right in front of my chair. What on earth! I thought for sure he was injured. He got thoroughly inspected. He was fine. He hopped off with these huge leaps. How did he fall so far and live!

Well, we can fall far, and we can still survive, thrive, make huge leaps. It’s true! This frog was living proof!

During my walk I stopped to take picture of a feather. Because I stopped I ran into two very inspirational people that I believe were placed there perfectly just for me. Just like that feather was. Just on my little walk. I saw some more flowers. The ones that hang in the sky that are purple were blooming. Orange puffy flowers that were in a hedge that I would LOVE to have in my own yard one day.

As I pulled in my driveway I saw a pink flower that smelled like bubble gum and a fruit roll up and more bubble gum. I have seen this flower before in other people’s yards but there one was right on the edge of my driveway. I stopped to smell it. I inhaled all of the scent and felt ok. I felt renewed by the scent of this flower, by the leap of the frog, by the two women I met on my walk.

Well, yesterday I felt gratitude. Everything felt clear in my mind and with my memory.

Today, I felt sad.

I woke up and for 2 hours I contemplated what I would do when my 3 year old got up and if we would take the dogs to the park like we did every day at 11. I was tired. I wanted to sleep a little longer. I fell back asleep and woke up an hour later and realized that my daughter is not 3 and both of my dogs were dead. I felt this blanket of sadness come over me. All day my daughter and husband said that I repeated myself, asking the same questions. I don’t even remember the questions. I guess my brain is not recovered from the seizures. I have to be patient. I forgot I had a muscle disease. My daughter told me that I once said, “If I ever have amnesia don’t remind me I have a muscle disease and maybe it will just be gone.” So no one reminded me. Today I jumped out of bed and decided to cook a good vegan meal for my daughter. I forgot to sit on the stool while I cooked. I walked too fast to the door. I forgot to use my scooter to take the garbage out. Forgetting I had a muscle disease didn’t make it go away. It caused severe pain and it definitely did NOT make the disease go away.

So, well, today I was not so full of gratitude. Not as much as yesterday.

My daughter asked if I could sit outside with her. The mosquitoes were awful. All I wanted to do was get in my bed. NO! How many daughters actually want to spend time with their mom and sit outside and talk. So I wrapped up in a sheet which she promptly took a picture of and said I looked mortifyingly scary in my sheet in the dark but she laughed and laughed and all that gratitude came back. I am grateful that whatever is put in front of me, whatever challenges, they do not stop me from feeling joy. My daughter’s laughter brought back all of the gratitude.

It is like a never ending water producing fresh water flowing well. A well of gratitude that exists if we just allow ourself to drink from it.


She rested her head on my shoulder

Her voiced echoed in through my chest

I smiled at the memory of her still in my womb

My hand stroked her hair 

And I closed my eyes and remembered.

Lifetimes of memories of childhood there.

I didn’t hear her  words

But they echoed in my heart.

Bringing tears of 




I kissed her head

That still 

Had the scent 

From the day she was born

Of a baby dove.

Have you smelled a baby bird?

It smells of life

And freedom

And rebirth.

This precious 

Priceless moment

It could have passed unnoticed

But I called her in

For one last hug.

A new memory

Of a mother’s


My bowl of precious things. 

I am not attached to material items. Except the ones in this little bowl. This little bowl was given to me by the daughter of a hospice patient that was very dear to me. It is made from a tribe in some far away country that I cannot even remember. But I love it’s sentimental value. 

The blue stone bracelet is from the same daughter, who gave me her mother’s bracelet as a way to remember her ( I will remember her forever in my heart anyway). 

The elephant necklace is from my daughter. She picked it out for me for Christmas. It is a mother and baby that symbolize us. She knows my most favorite animal is an elephant as well. 

My wedding ring, when I am not wearing it, is in this bowl. I remember the covenant I made, my vows, our vows, when my husband put this ring on my finger and I cherish that memory. 

The shells are from the first time I was able to go to the beach in 15 years. It was such a joyous moment because I truly believed I would never be able to walk on the beach again. I brought these shells home to remind me of that moment,( even though I can close my eyes and remember that moment in my heart right now. ) 

That plastic clip…hold on to your hats…the moms will know what that is… I have had many “OH MY GOSH WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT!” Comments on that plastic clip. It was the clip for my daughter’s umbilical cord. I will tell you why I kept it. It was a symbol of our connection. It reminds me that her umbilical cord was once attached inside of my body. I gave her oxygen and food and life through that cord. We will forever be bonded and that plastic clip just reminds me that even though the cord had to be cut for her to be an independent being, she was still once right next to my heart and forever will be. 

I also have both of our baby bracelets that have our names on them in that bowl. My bracelet fits into hers because I was barely 4lbs and she was 7 and 1/2 lbs. I have them in the bowl side by side. They remind me that nomatter how we came into this life, we have a choice with what we do with it. 

Each thing in the bowl represents or symbolizes something very special to me. It is the only material thing I am attached to on this earth. Everything else in this house I would not miss if it were gone. I value the love of my daughter and my husband far more than any material things, so if my little bowl were to disappear…I’d be ok as long as my two most favorite people kept  on loving me.