I am not perplexed by conventional memory loss. I understand it for the biological process that it is. I am perplexed by seasonal memory loss. As long as I can remember I have been surprised at how green things become in the spring and how bleak they become in the winter. In fifty one years it would seem that my mind should have been able to pick up a trend here, but that simply has not happened. Last night I got surprised again.
A terrible defect in my personality is that while I remember pain perfectly, I forget pleasure. I had forgotten what it felt like to ride in the darkness in cool weather. I had absolutely forgotten the near euphoria that is experienced while hurtling through pitch darkness as one weaves the trails and trees, relying on the horse's eyes alone.
Last night we had such a ride--my first big group night ride in a long time. Perhaps it is the ultimate irony that a great way to bring light into a series of wretched and very dark days is to experience a wonderful and very dark night.
(This is Emily on Young Joseph, a half Chincoteague sea horse, doesn't have anything to do with the post but do you know how difficult it is to get a good picture of a rider going through the woods in total darkness?)
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