The days turned colder as we approached Thanksgiving. My mother had arranged a family trip to a dude ranch. I worried about how Randy might act in front of my parents and brother.
“I’m not going to Arizona,” he had announced a few days before we were to leave. “The last thing I need right now is to hang out with your entire family.” The words stung, but soon I began to think that it could be liberating to travel without him.
My kids and I shared a small cabin with brightly colored woven rugs and chunky southwestern furniture. Our first stop was at the boot barn where we selected cowboy hats and leather boots to wear for the week. Rowan and Chloe were thrilled to find child sized vests and chaps. Every day my parents, my brother’s family and I went on long trail rides with two wranglers while my twins went on the children’s ride.
My view was framed by two furry ears that twitched and danced now and then. The saddle creaked as we swayed left and right. The horses picked their way down a steep incline. I leaned back dramatically to keep from tumbling forward and I felt my boots pressing into the stirrups as we descended. Seven horses accompanied me single file as the sound of multiple hooves made their way over rocks and roots.
The warm air smelled like sage. When our line of horses reached the base of the mountain we fanned out on the valley floor. I looked down at my hands and adjusted my grip on the reins. The diamonds in my wedding band glinted in the sun for a moment. I imagined removing the ring and flinging it into the Arizona desert. In my mind it would bounce and settle under a remote cactus.
Our guide asked us if we wanted to lope. I felt reluctant but my brother spoke for all of us, “Hell yes!” All at once our whole crew was racing across the parched land. I didn’t need to do anything, but follow and hang on. I desperately clutched the saddle horn against the advice of our wrangler. I bounced wildly, my tailbone repeatedly slamming against the saddle. I felt certain that I would fly off into the rabbit brush. I tried releasing my grip and holding my hand above the saddle horn. I relaxed my muscles and gave myself over to the ride. I took in a lungful of the dusty delicious air. I put my eyes on my horse’s ears and tried bobbing my head in time with their movement. Something fell into place and we were speeding effortlessly across the desert. When we finally came to a stop everyone whooped and hollered with exhilaration.
That night I fell asleep under a red and orange Mexican blanket and dreamed I was in an unfamiliar kitchen gazing out the window. My own reflection mingled with the moonless night and something moved outside. Slowly it became apparent to me that it was my grandmother who had passed away sixteen years earlier. She was silently moving her mouth and motioning for me to open the window. I slid it open and Gran came into focus, her large round glasses, her long nose and her toothy smile. She gestured toward my ring finger and said gently, “Isn’t it time you take this off?” I looked down at my wedding ring. It was a platinum infinity band encircled by tiny diamonds. I had inherited it from Gran’s mother whose finger had been my exact same size. All at once I was aware of being a part of a larger history. My marriage, my fleeting turn to wear this ring, the ancestors before me, my grandmother with her message from the other side. And I knew that she was right.