Since I started running, I have been going down some very familiar roads. Places I swore I would never come again. I run by the old stable where Poseidon was born, and broken, where Pikant was destroyed, where so many horses suffered and died, every morning. It is closed now, but the people still own the place, and even if the pastures has long since been sold off, the old buildings still stand, as a vivid reminder of how horrid the equestrian world was when I first joined it.
I really need to move away. Every path I take, the second I go out my front door, leads to some kind of memory and most of them are pretty sad.
We are getting a new “super hospital” in our back yard, which has led to a lot of roads being redirected. Now, I am not complaining about getting a new hospital, but I do think it is tragic, what it has done to the landscape. I used to ride in these forests.
Janis and I, and our ponies… We have had some of the happiest times of our lives between these trees…
Now, they have been cut down, most of them, to make way for roads.
Roads with stupid wayside art…
I mean, come on, I’d rather have my forest… and you know, real trees.
All of this used to be forest. All the way to the old refugee camps, where we were told we shouldn’t go. We used to ride up there all the time, and let the kids pet our ponies. I guess we never followed orders well.
So this is progress. Fifteen years of memories, paved over. Yeah, I really should move away. At least then, I wouldn’t have to see it.