I had a dream last night that I was standing close to a horse. I could feel the warm weight of him and I wanted to lean in closer, closer, until I was inside of him, but someone was there waiting for me to pull myself away from his warmth enough to put my foot into the stirrup and lift myself onto his back.

I had not been the one to put the bit in his mouth, but I was now the one who held the reins, who could feel the pull of the bit, the movement of his tongue.

I'm sorry, I whispered, but I whispered this inside my own head because I needed to be strong, confident, not some crying baby on a horse who can't abide the thought of girths and bits and heels in the ribs.

When you are a young girl, the smell of a horse can send you over the moon. Some girls keep that fever, but most move onto other things. I used to walk a mile from my house to a house that isn't there anymore on Fox Hill Road in Westwood before junior high to shovel stalls and feed two horses in exchange for riding privileges.

The deal of a lifetime.

I 've been living less than a mile, yet again, from where that house used to be on Fox Hill Road, and a handful of miles from where I used to take riding lessons in Dover. Before I started writing this, I emailed a stable in Dover to inquire about riding lessons. Hello, I wrote. I'm 59 and have not ridden in a long, long time. I just want to be on a horse and feel happy.

I went to the Apple store earlier today and bought a new computer. I had to do something because I have not been writing, and it feels like I'm a camera with no film. Maybe, I thought, I'm not writing because my laptop is so puny. Maybe I need a bigger screen. I'm an American, after all. Bigger is much damn better.

I'm not writing this on the new computer because I forgot my Apple password and am now locked out of any kind of installation for 24 hours or until Apple decides to let me out of forgot my password jail.

Whatever.

I'm writing on my little laptop, the one I haven't been writing on for some time now.

I told myself I have to blog once a day for a year. I pretended I was my own doctor, giving myself the perfect prescription for how to grow up as the most myself person I can be.

Giddyup.

Emphasis on giddy.