Did a quick trip across to Seattle this morning to spend a couple of hours at the ferry terminal with a friend of mine (lives in D.C.), who planned to visit with me, but whose grandmother began actively dying while he was on the first part of his visit west— he planned the visit because he’d had seven days in a row dreaming of his grandfather as a young man, conveying a mixture of comfort and urgency.
The grandmother did die, and the aftermath was accomplished, and my friend was able to be the rock his mother needed him to be, and he is shaken but ok.
Then I drove back to spend some time with Bon von Bon while her people were on a day trip, and I read to her from The Nine Senses.
She is used to being read to, and when I got to the barn, a chair had been set in front of her stall, along with her basket of hay, and a couple of minty heart-shaped horse cookies. In the kitchen, for me: a lemon, a sharp knife, and sparkling water in the fridge.
I sang, and we took a little nap, and I talked on the phone with Rachel back in Massachusetts, whose horse Julian is suffering through an ulcerated eye. He banged his eye on the feed bucket that Rachel had hung up, being frustrated with how much food got spilled with the bucket on the floor, so now of course Rachel feels terrible, and that it is ALL HER FAULT.