Heat rippled in my stomach as I started across the lawn. I could hear my heart beating faint as raindrops in a summer storm. My hands shook and I felt it all start to unravel. When things start to pile up, we have a choice to run from it or fight it. I am not a runner.

I sat in the shadows of the barn feeling out my thoughts. Worries ran like ice water down my neck, chilling me to the bone and holding me in place. Anxiety ran ramped - scolding my stomach and running its scorching fingers through my hair, raising goose flesh on my scalp. Something like anger, was there too, it wasn't as unpleasant as anger, it was more controlled; focused. It squeezed my shoulders and pointed me in the right direction. My logic was inside, ticking away, driving me crazy. I parted my lips and let it all go, one big breath.

I sprayed the big horses down with fly spray, and went to do Gatsby. I got one spritz in before he took off bucking and kicking. "You naughty little mongeral!"

I lunged him till he gave. His eyes softened and his mouth opened and closed. He stopped and stood sweetly as I misted him with fly spray.

After that we worked on leading, he knows how, but he also knows how not to. At random intervals Gatsby will lean all his weight back and brace himself, refusing to go forward. I've gotten creative, getting him to come forward.

We worked on that for a long while, then I opened the panels and made him continue to work inside. Then, with the Indiana Jones theme song playing in my head, Gatsby and I stepped out on our first solo outing.

If you aren't a horse person, it's hard to explain the almost religous moments you have with these beasts. Having Gatsby behave, and follow me, head bobbing, feet shuffling; it was like having the rain stop in the middle of a down pour.

"I spoke to her," he muttered, after a long silence. "I told her she might fool me but she couldn’t fool God. I took her to the window" – with an effort he got up and walked to the rear window and leaned with his face pressed against it – "and I said ‘God knows what you’ve been doing, everything you’ve been doing. You may fool me, but you can’t fool God!’" The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald