Carob, In Memorium… On Love and Touch

She had told me so many times that she loved me. I didn’t get it. I couldn’t. She had lived at our ranch long before we moved here. She was a tough broad. A nipper. The day I finally purchased her, she stood near me, close, not touching. Then, she quietly leaned her head on my shoulder. Not long, but enough. I believed, but I didn’t. After that, we often stood side by side, both facing forward, my body next to hers, and hers next to mine. Close, but not touching. Sometimes she would turn her head and touch my arm. Briefly. A tender acknowledgment, then back to our position. One day standing together, she interrupted our rich stillness, and thanked me for not touching. When humans learn not to violate our space when we don’t want to be touched, she said, we will share more secrets. She did. Many. She was my bridge to the mystical. And there, we touched.


One thought on “Carob, In Memorium… On Love and Touch

  1. it’s like we are drawn to touch those that intrigue us. i do it all the time. i try to remember what you have put so well to words.

    i hope things are well for you and the horses-i hear it raining outside right now. . .


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