a fresh start

I spent an uncountable number hours on Craigslist looking for work and a new living arrangement. Beginning long before I relocated myself, my son and my entire life to a new place; I knew that change was necessary, I just didn't know how dramatic the change would be. I harbored much hope that I might find a quick fix to my growing problems, but how quickly time runs out.  

I had then, and still maintain a certain level of confidence in my ability to find work easily. With that confidence tucked neatly away in my conscience, I moved forward in a way I mistakenly thought was best, by quitting my full-time well-paid landscape foreman position mid season, packing up all of my belongings, leaving my husband behind and moving back in with my parents.

Wait! You didn't sense my emphasis on the word "mistakenly?" Try grotesquely mistaken.
 


...I flipped open the phone book and thumbed through its pages. I had already exhausted the entire listing of landscape companies, calling each and leaving messages. I'd clear my throat in anticipation for the voice at the other end of the line. However, without fail, the ringing would come to a stop and a recording would pick up explaining in so many words that not one of the companies I attempted to contact had a secretary fielding phone calls. So when the recording ended and it was my turn to speak my piece, I summoned my professional phone etiquette and willed the listener to call me back at their earliest convenience.

I sort of knew better than to expect lucrative results from my efforts, but it couldn't be said that I didn't try. My trusty Craigslist hadn't turned up a single thing worth pursuing, and that confidence I spoke of earlier wavered ever so slightly. I began to realize that my timing was off and that no one would be hiring "late season" help. What for, to lay off again in just a few weeks time?

An idea had crept its way into and frequented my thoughts, finally settling at the forefront when all else failed, and I entertained it for just a brief moment. There were three listings and I decided to call the one that seemed closest to my location. The phone rang several times and my hopes began to fizzle yet again, when a girl answered the call.

"Actually, we ARE looking for help right now. Two positions. A Monday through Friday part time, and a weekend part time." The girl then gave me the phone number to reach the woman who owned the farm and as quickly as all hope seemed lost, a glimmer of hope glowed at the prospect of starting work in a place I hadn't visited in almost ten years.

When Abraham began to show interest in horses and cowboys, I paid little attention. After all, how many two-year old children do you know that maintain faithfully a passion for anything besides an old stuffed toy or blanket? Maybe a pacifier he refuses to give up or even the seemingly obvious discomfort of sitting in his own fresh bowel movements refusing to believe he smells bad?

This now obsession began months ago when he first viewed the film Hidalgo. He dragged the rocking horse my parents bought him for Christmas last year out of storage, mounted up and the rest is history. Now I have, in my possession, a real live cowboy of my very own. He lives and breathes horses, as much as any two-year old child can. He even dreams about them.

So now, here comes the rationale. What sort of mother would I be if I didn't use the knowledge and experience I have to make my child's everyday fantasies come to life? And who am I to say that my own childhood fantasies of playing with horses have completely ceased to exist? Though my career took a turn for a different direction much to the advantage of my wallet, I never lost sight of my first love. At this very vulnerable point in my unstable and chaotic life, excuses to find myself doing chores at a horse farm were coincidentally easy to come by.