“I’m going to marry a cowboy,” my 5-year-old self vowed. After all, I had come out of the womb loving horses. How else would I, a city kid, be able to transport myself into the world of Horse without the cowboys I saw on TV westerns like the Lone Ranger, the Cisco Kid and even Hopalong Cassidy? Seeing images of fearless men riding magnificent horses with names like Silver, Loco and Topper, my child’s mind also saw cowboys as the gateway to being around horses. Yes, there were a couple of cowgirls on TV, too, but I couldn’t feature riding a horse in a skirt like Dale Evans, the wife of the “real” cowboy, Roy Rogers.

“Those are culottes,” my mom explained. “A divided skirt......

One day back when I was about thirty, I sat on my bed rubbing my eyes after waking from lovely afternoon nap. The sun shone through the east window of my third-floor bedroom onto the knotty pine walls, making them the color of dark honey. Some of the knots looked to me like a woman’s head or a horse’s eye or a flower. It felt like time outside of time. In the midst of my reverie I heard a voice, clear as day, firmly declare, “Love makes the world go round.” I sat up, still looking at the wall, scratching my head, taking this in.

“Wow! Love does make the world go round,” I whispered in awe.  “I thought it was a cliché. But no. Now I see. Everything is fueled by love.” I ......