Barn Coat

I remember when I purchased this coat. I had gone to the store to buy something else and I walked by the outerwear section and there it was. I must have picked it up a hundred times, only to change my mind each time and place it back on the rack. 

It's not me. 

I'm too short. 

It's too long.  

It's lightweight.
I'll be cold in it but...it had deep pockets.
BIG pockets.
I could fit a lot of cool stuff in there, like a couple wormers plus a few carrots, a hoof pick, curry comb, syringes and a rolled up lead rope. And that was just for starters. Maybe even a rock or two. I love rocks. I pick them up off the ground all the time. It just seemed to me that there was alot of potential in those pockets. So, I bought the coat...yup, for the pockets. I love pockets. 

And wait, 

I have to be honest with you. I also bought the coat because, 

well, 

I thought I looked like the Marlboro man when I tried it on. 

You know, a cowboy. 

I always wanted to be a cowboy. Just like Johnny West. And Thunderbolt. You can't forget Thunderbolt. He was the best part. But this coat needed some serious character before any of that could happen. Over the years, it's gotten a lot of character. With two horses, you can imagine how much character this coat has gotten. My kids are embarrassed to be seen with me in public, if I am wearing this coat. "Please, can you wear something else" or "It's not that cold out, really, you don't need to wear it" or "you really need a new one, you look like a homeless man with that old coat, it's gross" they tell me with painful looks on their faces. It's a sore point in my household. But I love this coat and even if I were to win the big Lotto prize tomorrow, I would still wear it. I'll never get rid of it. This coat smells like my mare, Maarena. I bury my face in the coat and it takes me back to when I was standing right next to her, with my face buried in her silky mane. How I loved those days. Did I really understand how fleeting that time was? I was so happy then.  Every now and then, on the really bad days, I'll hug it and  I can almost feel my arms wrapped around her neck. I didn't want to let go. 

I didn't want to say good bye. 

I wasn't ready.  

Please, stay with me. 

Don't leave me. 

Please. 

So that's why I can't get rid of my coat. It's full of...character. My mare's character. I see her in this coat. That's why I can't wash it either. I see all the smudge marks from when she rubbed her head on my arm, after I wormed her. At the time, I wasn't thrilled with all that white paste that I thought would never come out but it did...sort of. And that time that she choked and all that stuff came out of her nose. That came out too. And when I needed a cloth to wipe her face and I couldn't find one and only a sleeve would do, well, that stuff came out too. It's a really good coat now. It's been repeatedly baptized by stuff, over and over and over. Why, I would say that it fits me perfectly now. Thanks to all that character and...stuff.