Luke Put Up Your Visor

Look up.

I was looking at Leroy, watching him think about calling everything off–his ears twitched and he swung his head weirdly to the right, because of me—and my Type A procrastination.

Look up.

I looked up—trees, that house perched precariously on Chatsworth’s pale boulders, blue blaze of sky—and squeezed my lower legs against Leroy’s stomach. My heels shot down in the stirrups and I went into that (for me) awkward 2 pt stance-in-the-saddle, the 2 pt that must be accomplished before actually jumping, which means using so much of your legs, it’s an interior explosion of focus and possibly pain and, if you’re “feeling it” successfully, a soul-rousting revelation of fitting, synching, with your horse.

Stop thinking.

A rocking horse left the earth. Arc-soared. Stardust and all-that- is-holy landed in a canter on the correct lead.

Good. (Ben doesn’t have to shout–his voice is a polite conversation over teacups through a magically self-adjusting mega-phone)

I reigned Leroy into a trot, lurching like a novice when the trot actually happened–damn! I was all red-faced and gaspy. Worried: Cavalia! I will never be you!

When Leroy and I returned to Ben’s corner of the ring, Ben said:  You just have to feel it.

Even if I wasn’t a writer, pets-keeper, struggling unicycle rider, mother and wife and diligent manager of Los Angeles traffic on all danger-filled freeways, I would know what Ben meant.

I nodded and turned Leroy to try the jump again.

When I feel “it”, “it” works, no matter the medium, genre, activity.

Luke–put up your visor.

Yeah, I would say feeling it. Sigh.

She’s feeling it.

About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, grateful. Fiction, memoir, poetry, kidlit (MG), member SCBWI.
This entry was posted in books, Children's Books, Fiction, Poetry, Writer's Angst, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Luke Put Up Your Visor

  1. Beth Hull says:

    Wow! Just in awe. Good work, lady!

Words do not escape you

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