Three years ago, I almost lost her.
I will never forget that feeling. The fear, the praying, the unending bartering that I did with God just to let me keep Sadie.
Her surgery went great, but she didn’t come out of anesthesia well. She had complications and an infection. It was really touch and go at one point.
I knew if she died, I would die with her. I couldn’t handle losing Emmy Jo and Sadie in one lifetime.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to endure that. We had a lot of tears, pain, and struggles, but with the help of my dad and sisters, we got through it.
There is just no way that I am ready for her to…risk it all again. I can’t go through it. I know I can’t put her in a bubble, but I sure as hell can insulate her a little.
“You’re not ready to get back on that horse,” I say, leaving no room for discussion.
“Everyone in this town rides, Dad. Everyone has a horse.” She throws her arms out toward the corral. “We have hundreds, and I can’t ride any of them!”
Harper clears her throat. “And that’s my cue.” She pats my chest as she goes.
“You have a horse,” I remind her. “Cloud is in that barn. He’s alive, regardless of the fact that he tried to kill you.”
By sheer will, I keep myself grounded. I don’t want to fight with Sadie. Every day, I wake up, telling myself today will be the day I relent and finally give my daughter the chance to heal, but fuck, I can’t.
I see her lying in that field. I see the entire thing play out over and over. My daughter, just nine years old, screaming, her leg mangled, tears running down her face as I held her in my arms and tried to get home without causing her more harm.
Rationally, I know what happened. I just can’t make myself stop replaying that horrific day.
“You know he didn’t.”
I do know. He got spooked, then took off, stopped suddenly, and Sadie flew off the front, slamming her head on the ground and shattering her leg.
He didn’t do it. No one did. It was an accident. I heard it over and over again as my sisters stood next to me in the hospital, as we waited for Sadie to come out of surgery.
We all know this, but I can’t…let her do it.
“We’re not discussing this.”
“Ugh!” she yells, throwing her arms up in the air. “You’re so…”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence, Sadie Jo Stone.”
The use of her full name stops her for a second, but my daughter, in all her inability to be too much like me and not enough like her mother, grins. “Wonderful.”
We both know that wasn’t going to be what she said, but I damn sure can’t punish her for that.
“Smart move.”
“One day, Daddy, you’re going to realize that I’m smart about a lot of things, and you’re going to let me make my own choices.”
“Yes, but it won’t be about that horse.”
She walks to the door, and I don’t doubt she’s going to test me and saddle him, like she’s done before.
“Where are you going?”
“To the chicken coop, or am I not allowed to be near them because they’re dangerous too? Maybe they’ll peck my eye out!”
“I’d rather it be your tongue,” I say.
She huffs and then exits, pulling the door like she’s going to slam it, but stops right before it hits. Sadie closes it ever so slowly, because she knows that slamming a door in this house will get you grounded.
