saskatchewan

The Saskatchewan horizon is a golden line that cuts starkly against the blue sky; you can see storms coming from miles away; you can see deer picking their way delicately through ditches in the spring dusk; you can see birds diminish into tiny specks before they disappear into the thick blue.

We are travelling across this flat expanse of gold in a rented van. It’s the eighth hour of this cross-prairie trip, and we’ve already played every car game we can think of, and asked every “would you rather...?” question conceivable.

Two are sleeping in the back. Two are staring out windows in the middle. One, in the front, is fiddling with the radio dial, working her way through the white noise, past oldies stations and western hits. One drives the van, both hands on the wheel, sunglasses still on despite the fact that the sun has already slipped past the sharp line of the horizon.

This moment: six of us inside of a rented van somewhere in southeast Saskatchewan – this moment lives inside of me; our togetherness lives inside of me.

And our destination: later, we are sitting at a formica table in the farmhouse kitchen, cradling cups of coffee. Smiling, answering questions about ourselves, asking questions like
how many horses?
how many foals?
how do you do it?

And the first time I see him: a tall, large-boned chestnut gelding splashed here and there with white. A wide blaze down his face. Four white stockings. He is trotting around the arena, he is not the first one we’d looked at that day. He stops, walks over to us, examines us with his neck stretched out towards us, sniffing carefully. Blowing puffs of foggy breath on my hands. Cautious and curious. Outside an unseasonably late snowfall blankets everything, coats the rented van.

The first day of years together, he and I. The first greeting. The first time he rested his soft muzzle in my hands and breathed the scent of sweet hay onto my skin.

Still, what my mind picks out of that whole trip is the six of us for hours and hours inside a rented van, cutting across Saskatchewan’s long, straight highways. Being together and living completely unaware of the way things would change in the future.