Visit with Sharon

Saturday afternoon A. and I drove up to the country outside Easton PA to see my best friend from high school, Sharon. She and her husband run a small horse farm, where they board other people’s horses. Their house is an 18th century stone house that they have fixed up over the years.

It turns out we had the wrong day! I am so calendar challenged. But Sharon and Ray welcomed us and said we just had to chat while they were finishing chores and then maybe we’d have pizza.

A few of the people boarding horses arrived, and Sha couldn’t finish mucking out the stalls so she took us up to the pasture where she keeps her own animals. The mule instantly started butting me. Her head seemed twice the size of a horse head. She was just being friendly. We patted the others and Sharon told us about their adventures and diseases.

I decided to take a nap while they proceeded with their chores, and I had a lovely one. Then everyone decided to go out to dinner, so Sha and Ray each took showers. Ray chatted with us in their rustic living room, which is covered with horse awards, horse pictures, and a huge portrait of Ray as a Civil War reenacter. (He played a soldier in Gettysburg, his moment of glory). Ray showed us an invention of his that they sell, an X shaped thing. You buy two of them, and then put anything between them–two by fours, poles, etc., and you have something to practice jumping your horse with.

He is a mellow guy with a pipe. He came into Sharon’s life when she very much needed a mellow guy with a pipe. He never complains, is always amenable to anything. He started talking about the things he does–plays cards once a month with some reenacters, rides his new Harley, etc. He looked a little puzzled as he said in the beginning he was really into the horses along with Sharon but now he’s lost interest. His Harley, he said, isn’t always coming down with strange diseases. But Sharon loves the place and he helps her. Later on A. and I were trying to figure out what Ray was trying to say–did he hate the farm? Was this his way of complaining? But A. hit the nail on the head, I think, when he said Ray was musing out loud, puzzled by his own change of interests.

We had a great Italian dinner in a packed restaurant. Lotsa talk and laughter. When we got back, it was late and we had a long drive, so we said we’d take off. First, though, Sharon and I chatted, while A. went up to the barn with Ray to talk to one of the owners. Sha told me how happy and peaceful she was, how much she loved this life. But then she creeped me out by saying that she didn’t know what she’d do if Ray went first. “At our age, we start thinking of these things,” she said. At our age? Granted, Ray is older, but still, he seemed to be in good shape. Better shape than Sha, actually, because she has terrible fibermyalgia and is on lots of medication. She added that once they couldn’t manage the pain anymore, she’d probably take herself out too. Most of my friends don’t talk to me about suicide, so I was a little nonplussed, but I wasn’t about to shut her down because I wanted to know what was up with her. She’s very dependent, emotionally, on Ray, and very afraid of pain. Who knows what it’s like in other people’s shoes. But I was sad, and am resolved to keep in touch with her better than before, and when enough time passes try to talk with her about envisioning how a future might be without Ray that still could be fulfilling and good. As for the pain, that I know nothing about and can say nothing.

She and I hugged a long time and said we were so happy to have seen each other again and vowed not to let so much time go by. Then A. and I went home, and the next day I slept till after noon.