Two weeks ago today I went with my dad to move cows. My old mare Fawn is lame, so I looked around and decided to ride Cinnamon, the young mare. She should be broke. I've ridden her all over the mountains. I've put my time in on her. I've done the groundwork, built the foundation.
But she surprised me. Bucked me off. Hard.
I landed on the backs of my hands, flipped over onto my back. I was knocked out. Came to looking at my dad's boots.
I sat up, lip quivering a little. But then I cussed, stood up and got back on her. I rode her.
I was hurt pretty bad, both hands swelled like basketballs, my spine looked like it had been slashed with black and blue paintballs. I didn't have a spot that didn't have a bruise. I think I had a concussion.
Cinnamon needs some more work before she goes out again.
Kind of like my book. I thought it was ready, polished. I've entered it in some contests lately. And got bucked off hard.
I was bruised up pretty bad.
Like Cinnamon, the book isn't ready to go out yet.
It needs some more groundwork, some more fixing.
But I will get it back out there.
And ain't that the whole point...get back up and get back on?