I don't know what I was thinking, bringing a suitcase on this journey -- this modern day vision quest. It seems that the farther away from civilization you get the heavier its trappings get. The suitcase has become my seat as I sit here beside this lonely little dirt road because I thought my arms would break. I'm not ready to let go, though. I'm not ready for that step. I'm just too afraid. These trappings are filled with memories that hold me together. Memories that tell me who I am.
There is an old piebald horse in the field across the road. I leave my suitcase and walk over to the fence that separates us - one at the end of its journey, the other at the beginning of hers. I stand there, watching, as it grazes quietly in the shadow of an ancient oak tree. As the aging horse lifts its still proud head, it has the air about it that says, "I'm old and I darn well EARNED this luxury, this mansion of cool green grass and cathedral ceilings of blue sky. I am happy." Not many oldsters have that about them - equine or human.
I walk back to my side of the road, back to the treasure trove of the past that I have been dragging around. The suitcase bulges as if it is about to give birth as I lay it on its side and open it with near surgical precision. There is a blue scarf that my grandmother gave me among the odds and ends, which I lay on the ground as if it were the result of a successful C - section. Soon I find the object of my search -- what at one time had been a near perfect apple.
I go back to the fence and leave the apple as an offering to the aging Child of Epona. In my hand is the blue scarf, stuffed with a few clothes and one or two memories that I still don't want to part with. I wish the horse a happy life and walk down this beautiful country road with its borders defined by the morning glories, trumpets, and blackberries growing up the ancient fences. The suitcase lies beside the road, its contents strewn this way and that, with the rest of the roadkill.