Wild Horses and a Shuttle Ride in Florida

A few months ago, I was on my way to Dunnellon, Florida for a 2 week vacation. I was traveling with my mother back to my parent’s condo. I had worked the day prior (and a good portion of the night) and we had spent that entire day flying from MT to FL. By the time our shuttle picked us up from the Orlando airport at roughly 6pm, I was hungry, tired and a bit grumpy as we had spent that day rushing to and from gates in 3 different airports. Ah, sweet Travel! (But really, how amazing is it that at 6am I was in northeastern MT and by 6pm FL time, I was all the way across the country?! But I digress. We boarded the van that was to take us to our drop off point. There were just a few other people aboard, a couple and a middle-aged woman. The couple got off at one of the earlier stops and then it was just my mother and I and the woman.

Even in my tired/’don’t really want to make small talk with people’ state, I could tell there was something different about this woman. I could sense an internal tension and something seemed to be amiss, though I couldn’t quite place it. She seemed to be in what I can only describe as a controlled distress, if that makes sense. My mom is quite social and from a generation where they weren’t raised with their faces glued to a digital screen, thus her and the woman easily and naturally made small talk. I joined in on the conversation and the ride went along nicely.

The woman eventually asked what I did for a living and when I told her I am a nurse who works in a hospital, the expression on her face immediately changed. Everything sort of cracked open. Her demeanor became pained and she was vulnerable as she disclosed a whole number of things, primarily that she had just flown into town to be at the bedside of her best friend who was dying very suddenly and unexpectedly of a just-discovered cancer. I asked her a bit about this person she so loved. I learned that she was in her early 50’s, a mother and wife who loved life and horses and was excellent at working with them, something that the woman and her had shared over the decades. She told me lots of things about her friend, too many to adequately express in writing. Then she showed me a picture of the two of them together from when they must have been in their early 20’s. Both of them smiling ear to ear. Both of them radiating an ethereal joy and the fearlessness that comes from that age where you have nothing but the boundless possibility of the plethora of years assumed to be ahead of you.

The woman then said to me, “because you are a nurse, I need to ask you something. What should I do? What should I do when I get there and I am at her bedside? How do I make her feel better? How do I make her know that her life wasn’t in vain because her death was too damn early? How does she know she’s lived a full life? How do I know?” All of this said with tears in her eyes. It was a lot. Obviously, she wasn’t really expecting me to answer her questions. I think it was more just feeling as if she could express such big fears and anxieties in the presence of a medical professional who has stood at the bedside of many people taking their final breaths. Sometimes just declaring something so monumental makes the shadow it casts over you recede just enough so you can grasp it’s form/shape. Still. It was such a jolting conversation.

I have been thinking about that car ride for months. I am humbled that the woman confided such private thoughts and deep grief with me. I feel like the questions she asked out loud are so important and they have been echoing at the back of my mind near daily ever since. Mainly, how DOES one live a life that is worthwhile? A life that when it comes to its timely or untimely end, the end does not overshadow the middle, all of the magical in-between? A life that is so full and complete it leaves our loved ones left behind with a small sense of peace amidst all the cacophony that is grief? Whose or what “standards” do we use? If there are standards are there rules too? How do we live to our full potential, if there is such a thing? How do we prioritize all of the love we have to give, dreams to achieve, startling sights to see, adventures to be experienced? How do we find the time and strength to grow when we know growth doesn’t come from comfort but recognize that the foundation of a daily routine can be incredibly nurturing to the soul, allowing for growth of a different kind? How can we be fully present in the daily minutiae and quell the constant hovering FOMO (fear of missing out)? How can we make sense of deep pain, or if no sense can be made, learn to respect & acknowledge it so that it is just a thread in our story, still important but just a backdrop to the vividly colored patchwork that makes a vibrant quilt of life? Can any of these questions even be answered or just…felt, experienced, lived?

A couple months later, I went on a trip to the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range. It was so so lovely (I highly recommend Pryor Wild Tours). After trekking about 10,000 feet up, the rocky & harsh mountainous landscape opened up to a beautiful hilly grassland full of purple, pink, blue & yellow wildflowers. I saw close to 100 wild horses and even a few mustang quarrels (though not the full on battles, thankfully). From a distance, I did get to see a stampede of many horses racing across the grasslands directly in the valley below us. It lasted only a few seconds as the herd itself numbers maybe around 120-130 in total and they often hang out in smaller groups. I was close enough to see their manes flipping about wildly in the wind. In that moment I thought of that woman in the shuttle. I thought of her friend who had likely passed away; their shared & deep love of horses. I don’t know if I actually heard the sound of the stampeding horses’ galloping into the distance or if my mind was playing tricks on me. I couldn’t help but think just how fleeting it all is. How important it is to just try to remember that sometimes; to acknowledge this even through our fear of it. To try and treasure, as best we can do in our finite human capacity, Life’s little and big moments. Every one of them we can.

Because maybe if we are lucky, a lifetime of all those moments added up will be a life that is beautiful simply because it is truly,

Enough.

I won’t ever forget that woman in the shuttle and all the questions she asked that day. I would like to live my life in such a way that I can maybe find my own answers to them. However, even if they are never meant to be answered, maybe her questions are just some of those very moments themselves.

Some of the wildflowers along the way. The fence is very old and was used (as part of a larger fence-trap) to try to catch the wild horses many years ago.