The Greatest of These (Sequel to Kansas Summer) -- Faith

January 14, 2004

--Jenna

        The sun is shining outside.  For a January afternoon, it is surprisingly warm: fifty-two degrees.  I sip a cup of hot chocolate as I sit at the kitchen table and admire the cardinals and meadowlarks fly through the air, so free.  I sigh deeply and move my gaze to the horses, Sierra and Cimarron, who graze peacefully, tails swishing without flies to bother them.  It's been such a long time since I've done any riding; I need to get out of this house.  I was feeling quite well this morning, no nausea or dizziness, save for a little cramp, but I'm a tough girl.  I can weather it, especially in weather as nice as this.

        Standing up from the table, I push in my chair and walk over to the sink to rinse out my empty cup.  After getting it somewhat clean, I head into my bedroom to change into riding breeches, excited to finally get to ride my horse again after so long.

        

        I step out of the house, clad warmly in my breeches, and sweater, and stride over to the fence, clicking and whistling for Sierra and Cimarron.  The two come gallpoing across the pasture, the still frozen earth thumping against their hooves, and meet me at the edge, rubbing their nosesagainst my jacket.  I scratch them behind their ears as equally as I can, but they fiercely vie for my affection and won't hold still.

        "Alright, alright!" I admonish them, "I get it, I get it!  Sierra, come here!  You and I are gonna take a little trail ride today!" I push back her brother as I unhook a halter from the gate.  "Back, Cimmi, back!" I command him, waving the end of the leadrope in his direction.  I clamber over the fence and land on the frozen mud on the other side of the gate.  Once I have Sierra's halter on, I skillfully lead her out of the pasture while keeping Cimarron inside.  He stamps his feet in protest, angry at having been left behind.  I make snorting noises back to him, laughing and patting Sierra as I lead her up to the barn to get her saddle on.

        "I don't think there's any danger in taking a short ride," I talk childishly with my horse.  "None of the books I read say that horeseback riding is bad for the baby.  It's quite well protected.  I mean, you aren't nearly as rough to ride as my--well, maybe we should just stop it right there," I giggle, "And the baby can survive that!".

        "What do you think the baby should be called, eh Sierra?" I ask my horse.  Come to think about it, I haven't even asked my husband.  Oh well, that'll be something to talk about at the dinner table -- after I talk about it with my horse!  Sierra responds in the only way a horse can: in a snort and a whinny.  I rub her neck vigorously before I throw myself up on her, feeling a slight twinge of pain in my abdominal area, but it goes away after a few seconds.  I sigh thankfully.

        "I don't know if I'd want a boy or a girl," I continue to muse, "I think I'd want a boy, just because I have always wondered what it would be like to grow up with a boy and to have a brother.  But I'd be just fine with a girl too."  I laugh.  "I don't even know when I will know what the baby will be, and here I am trying to predict!"  Sierra snorts and stomps her feet, impatient to get going.  "Alright, See!  Giddap!" I click, starting the huge animal to a slow, powerful, staggering gait.  "I think for a boy, I'd want either Harrison, Royce, Ethan, or Jesse.  If it's a girl, I'd want Leslie, Bethany, Melissa--I really like the -issa names.  You know, like Alyssa, Karissa, Marissa.  They just sound so feminine."  I take a break from yammering to watch the house and the barn disappear down the dirt trail that we're following.  "But you don't really care, do you?"  A snort from my horse tells me that she doesn't.  A smile plays beautifully across my face as the wind blows my hair in long waves from under my helmet.