Chapter Eight

WHEN DAWN CREPT OUT OF NIGHT’S ROBES, SO DID IRIS. She crawled out of her tent and looked about the camp. All of them were sleeping. She turned and watched the slumbering Bear and noticed that the new one was missing. Maybe Stilicho sent him out to hunt, Iris thought. She slung her satchel over shoulder, tightened the laces on her otter furred boots and snuck her way into the depths of the forest.

My concerns about my position being 'too idyllic' dissipated to more appropriate proportions once I had been introduced to the students who would be under my tutelage. There were nine of them, all eleven-year-old girls, and most of them proved to be perfect darlings.

I awoke an hour earlier than necessary the next morning, and my nerves prevented me going back to sleep even for a few minutes, so I rose and began getting myself ready. The wardrobe was my first order of business. I had thought out a dozen possible outfits while lying awake the night before, but still had not managed to decide on one that merited the occasion.

I want to totally and completely take over a Sunday School class at our church. I recently looked back on my Church experiences and found that I couldn’t remember anything about being in class expect that I hated it, was bored and was sick of the same thing over and over again.

What?

That’s awful! I should look back on my learning experiences as being fortifying and interesting, fun yet reverent!

I realized that I had gained nothing but resentment for studying the Bible from my Sunday School classes.

Today is my first day teaching! It’s 11am right now, and I teach at 2:30pm. The waiting is always the worst part for me so I thought I’d write to take my mind off the waiting.

I am fifteen. I am standing in the arena at Spice Creek Stables while five riders circle me, as Bill Richey’s apprentice. I am uncomfortable, and ashamed that I feel this way when everyone keeps telling me what a great opportunity this is. I want to be an instructor, I want a job with horses, but now I am unhappy and I don’t even know why.

This is my life,
this is my world.
The hot summer sun.
the wind’s bitter cold.
The triumphs,
the tears,
the complaints no one hears.
The sweat and the blood,
the sore muscles, the mud.
The children’s smiles,
the weight of their trust.
The circles, the patience,
the praises, the dust.
The first canters,
the thrills,
and the traumatic first spills.
The lame ponies, broken reins,
the glory, the pain.
The long hours, low pay –
and the brilliant red sunset