As I’m sure you can imagine, I talk about horses a lot. My late husband, like most horse husbands, was subjected to his fair share of pony talk. Sometimes when I would start to rattle off about a lesson or horse show coming up, he would interrupt me with a straight face.
“Wait a second – do you like ponies or hate ponies? I can never keep it straight.”
Even though he did this often, it always made me smile. The joke wasn’t made because he was annoyed at my obsession, but more because he liked seeing me happy about my hobby.
After he died, I found some scribbled notes in a notebook in Tim’s handwriting. I checked everything I’ve found that he wrote, because you never know what might be important. Most notebooks are math equations from grad school or programming notes from work, but this one was a workout schedule for the two of us. Next to days that I ride, he wrote “Ponies!”
It made me think of a happier time. Do I like ponies or hate ponies? Well, I still like ponies.
So I got it tattooed yesterday.
This won’t be the last tattoo I have in memory of Tim, but it’s the first and something I knew I wanted immediately. When I lose my way, I can look down and see a part of him glancing up at me. If I get too sad, I can take a look at my foot and remember what happiness feels like.