The next morning, a light rain fell outside the window as Kalvin and Grace snuggled between Dan and I. It was a day that yearned for hot chocolate, a good book, and a cozy fire. But I wanted to see Woody.

After getting the babies ready for the day, I hugged them good bye and started toward the barn.

Rain is one of the sounds I love the most in the world along with Kalvin and Grace’s laughter, the sound of a running river, and my husband’s laughter when he’s surprised. I turned off the radio and listened to the rain wax and wane with the storm as I drove. The mountains, normally so green against a blue sky, looked dark and uniform, with white clouds nestled between peeks of evergreen and rock. In the parking lot, my tires splashed through rain-filled potholes until I pulled to a stop and turned off the car. And then I just sat, as I had almost eight months before. I sat watching the rain and clouds, resting in a rare moment of serenity. The feeling was so foreign to me, it felt like visiting an exotic country. The smell and sound and sight of the rain were all exaggerated, creating a moment so pregnant with awareness, I felt the presence of peace that only seemed to appear when I stopped looking.

A lull in the rain prompted me out of the car and into the barn. As I stepped through the door, the smell of wet earth and hay and horses took residence within me. The lights were off, and the barn was empty, minus Jasmine the cat who meowed a greeting. The sound of my cowboy boots against the concrete floor, punctuated by the gentle jingle of my spurs, was all I heard. The rainy morning seemed to have lulled the horses into a state of quiet calm, and only a few lifted their heads as I passed by their stalls.

“Hey, you guys,” I said in quiet voice just above a whisper. “How you doing this rainy morning?”

I opened the inside door of Woody’s stall and then the turnout door. Woody was standing to the left against the building, just out of the rain cascading off the roof. “Hi, Woody boy,” I cooed. His hindquarters were closest to me, but when he heard my voice, he bent his neck and turned his head around his body to look at me with his happy eye. “Want to come inside good boy?” The rest of his body followed his head and he started towards me. I felt the warmth of Woody’s breath on the back of my neck as he followed me inside. “I missed you too, buddy,” I said.

The barn was still and quiet as I groomed Woody’s brown coat, spending extra time with the soft brush on his face, ears, and chin. His happy eyebrow never lowered as I cleaned his hooves, saddled, and bridled him. “Ready to go to work, good boy?” I asked.

We walked down the corridor to the dark arena. But when I opened the gate, Woody resisted. Instead, he looked at the open garage door, the one that had scared him so many times during his first winter at the barn. “You want to ride outside good boy?” I asked. There seemed to be a momentary break in the rain. “We can try,” I said as I tightened his cinch and stepped up into the saddle.

Woody and I walked through puddles and mud on our way to the outdoor arena where the soft sand was soaked. In the distance, thunder rumbled and echoed off the mountains. “I don’t think we’ll be out here for long, Woody boy, but okay.” I said, and asked Woody to lower his head. He immediately dipped his nose almost to the ground. “Good boy,” I said and rubbed the base of his neck just in front of the saddle. We walked around the outdoor riding area once in either direction, listening as the thunder got closer. When I asked Woody to trot, he responded immediately without lifting his head. And then we loped, first in one direction, then the other. Around and around we went, just Woody and me and the rain in the distance and the clouds nestled into the mountains. When the wind picked up and the trees on the berm next to us started swaying, Woody and I went inside. The barn was still empty, perhaps the rain had kept people at home a bit longer than usual.

“Want to run good boy?” I asked him in the quiet comfort of the vacant arena. “You can play.” I unbuckeled Woody’s neck loop and he lowered his head as I eased the headpiece off his ears. Woody was free, but he remained perfectly still next to me. “It’s okay, buddy, go run!” I said, and waved my arms. Woody took off running and kicking and leaping in giant circles of wild freedom. After just a few laps, however, Woody honed in on me standing in the center of the arena and trotted in my direction. When he reached me, he lowered his head into my chest. Woody had hooked on, and then some. I rubbed his forehead and his neck and told him I loved him. We stood forehead to forehead with his breath on my chest. I breathed a heavy sigh. He delivered a heavy exhale in return. All I could feel was gratitude. I don’t know how long we stood there. I finally took a step back.

“I love you Woody, but go play, good boy. Go play! I’m not going anywhere, go have fun!” And off he ran again.

I laughed out loud as my horse ran and kicked and ran again. After another few circles, he hooked on again. With a deliberate trot, he closed the ground between us. I’m done, Mom, he seemed to be saying. I just want to be with you.

“Silly boy,” I said and rubbed his head and looked in his beautiful eye and wondered just how much he understood. With his head in my chest and his breath on my hand, the answer didn’t really matter. I loved that horse, and all that mattered was the moment we were in.

“Thank you Woody boy, thank you,” I whispered, as the rain again began its symphony on the metal roof. Standing with him in the middle of the arena, I felt protected, warm, and strong. And in the stillness I swear I heard it again, Slow down, sweetheart. Enjoy, pay attention, it’s all going to be okay. It’s all already okay. I love you.