08.30.25
I had such a nice, relaxing day today. I picked up my new phone, which means I’m officially locked out of work email until Tuesday when IT can help me. Damn. Guess I’ll just have to survive without it. I took a nap, watched a movie, and let myself rest without the hangover.
By evening I was gussied up for the Kuna rodeo. Our shuttle from the overflow lot was called the “Struggle Bus”, but not today, Satan—these two hot drunks are sober. Honestly, it was more comfortable than I expected, which set the tone for the whole night: a little chaotic, a little ridiculous, but surprisingly sweet.
It was so strange and wonderful to see my daughter alongside three of her half-sisters. They’re all turning into such beautiful young women, inside and out. Even the “baby” is 15 now, which feels impossible. Watching them together, I could see pieces of history and family weaving themselves into the present moment in ways I never could have imagined years ago. My eyes quietly leaked.
Of course, there were plenty of cute cowboys to look at and lots of laughter as we watched the events unfold. But the night took a heavy turn when one of the broncs went down in the arena. The announcer’s voice worked overtime to keep the crowd calm, but I knew what I was seeing: a broken leg, and the end for that horse. My heart ached, because no one goes to a rodeo hoping to witness that kind of loss.
My friend looked it up and told me the chances of seeing something like that at a rodeo are about .04%. What are the chances I’d be right there, sober, front and center, witnessing all of it with clear eyes and an open heart? A year ago, that would’ve been unthinkable. Tonight, it was undeniable.
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