Katalina Walker

            Fresh tears coated my cheeks as my family stood around Bubbas casket; it was still hard to believe that he was gone. I had know the man my entire life and he was more like an Uncle to me than just one of the workers on the farm; he had been there right along with my father for almost all of the milestones of my life. He was there the first time I rode a horse, along with the first time I got bucked off, he was there for my kindergarten, JR High and high school graduations; Bubba was even there when I got baptized. He was right at my fathers side when I got punished for sneaking out or coming home drunk; although I know he was the one that would always cover me up when I would sneak into the barn drunk from a party and sleep it off on the cot in the tack room.

            Bubba was always there for everything and I couldn’t imagine what life on the farm was going to be like now that he was gone; it just wasn’t right that such a great man was taken from us and I knew that all our lives would change forever without him here. The first day he was gone and I walked into the barn it was like life itself was missing from the space; it seemed dull and lifeless, it was lacking the normal luster and shine that seemed to follow Bubba around everywhere he went. It was like walking into your house to find that your favorite painting was missing from the wall; the room would never be the same without it. I wiped away a few more stray tears as I was called to the front of the casket to give a eulogy about Bubba before they lowered him into the ground; when they first asked me to speak I had declined thinking that I wouldn’t have the courage to do it, but I knew that Bubba would have wanted me to stay strong and it would have meant a lot to him to have me speak for him so I sucked it up and decided to do it.

“Thank you everyone for bein’ here today to pay tribute to Bubba. Today we must say goodbye to one of the greatest men most of us have ever known. Bubba was one of the most lovin’ and carin’ people to have ever walked gods great earth; he had a heart of gold and wasn’t afraid to share it with anyone. Bubba was the type of man that would give you the shirt off his back even if it was the last one he owned; he was the most unselfish person I have ever had the pleasure of knowin’. I shared a lot of great times with Bubba on the farm; he taught me how to change shoes on the horses and how to use a pitch fork to shovel hay, but most of all he taught me respect, kindness, and when to forgive and forget. Bubba was a man of knowledge for things that can’t be taught in books or school; he had his own way of showin’ you the world in a whole different light. Without Bubba I wouldn’t be the woman I am today and I’m sure some of you wouldn’t be the men and women you are today either; he was a man of many words and there are many words that I could use to describe him but I would like to sum it up into three simple words. Lovin’, loyal and devoted; Bubba you are a great man and will never be forgotten.” 

            I was surprised to find fresh tears coating my face by the time I went back to take my place next to my parents; throughout the speech I hadn’t notice that I was even crying. My father hugged me closer to his side as he wiped away a few tears of his own from his face; I know that Bubbas death was affecting him the most out of all of us. Bubba and my father had been friends since they were young and he always thought of Bubba as more of a brother than an employee; the two had been inseparable since they first met and it was rare to ever see one without seeing the other. They spent every single day together on the farm and Bubba had even joined us for a few of our family vacations; even though he wasn’t blood related he was family, he was our kin.

            The trip back home from the cemetery was in silence; I could tell that my father was mourning the loss of his friend but there were no words that could be spoken to ease his pain. Everyone needed time to get over the loss of a loved one, only time could heal some wounds; death was one of the deepest wounds that can be inflicted on someone, you could have an arm chopped off and the pain you feel would be nothing compared to the pain the heart feels when someone is taken from your life. Bubbas heart attack came as a shock to everyone; the day before we all sat at the table and had dinner like we always did while he made bad jokes about my mommas cooking and the next morning my father found him cold in his bed when he didn’t show up for breakfast. It’s crazy how your life can change in the blink of an eye; you should never take life for granted because you never know how much longer you have left. A lesson learned from Bubba himself; always show the ones you love how much they mean to you because you never know what day could be their last.

            The next few weeks at the farm were hard for everyone as we all tried to cope with Bubba being gone; it took some time for everyone to get back into a normal routine. Bubba would never be forgotten but we all knew that he wouldn’t want us sitting around moping, so in his memory we did our best to get life back to a semi-normal state; it was still hard to walk into the barn everyday and not instantly think about him but instead of thinking about his death we used the good memories we had of him to get us through the days. My mother asked me to clean out Bubbas apartment, the second floor of the barn, and walking in I could still smell the stale cigars and beer that he would have every night before bed; I cleaned out the fridge and any other perishable items but other than that I left everything else as it was. My father said that we would be expecting his son at the end of the week and I wanted to leave the apartment as it was so that his son could get a glimpse of what his father was like; although they never really had much of a relationship together I knew that over the last year Bubba had been writing him and trying to rekindle the years that they had lost together.

            After cleaning up the floors and countertops and washing a few loads of laundry and putting the clothes back in their rightful places in the dresser I changed the bed sheets and headed back downstairs. I left a few boxes and tape on the kitchen table so that when his son arrived if there were things he didn’t want he could box them up and I would take them to charity for him, I didn’t feel it was my place to remove his fathers things and figured it would be best if I left it for him to do. Once back in the barn I went out to work with a new foal; she was just turning eight months and it was time to get her used to a kiddie saddle. My main job at the stables was breaking in the yearlings and two year olds but you can never start training too early and the sooner the horse gets use to being saddled the better; I also did a lot of riding, for show and for racing.

            I never planned on being a jockey but I was trained how to ride because most perspective buyers wanted to see a horse in action before they bought it; my small size made me a good candidate for a jockey so my training started when I was only eight years old. I cant complain I love to ride and riding a race horse is one of the best feelings in the world; feeling their powerful muscles coil under your legs as they run, hearing their heavy breathing coming out in short gasps in time with their steps and their soft manes blowing back in your face, its unlike anything else you could ever experience. Taking a horse for a run around the track was by far the best part of my job; I liked show ridding too but it was more of a leg workout than an enjoyable ride, nothing like when you’re holding on for dear life as the race horse under you barrels around a corner.

            The foal I was working with today was named Ginger; she’s an Arabian mare with a pure white coat and soft cream colored mane and tail. Even at her young age she had a great stance and showed potential for being used for rails or barrel racing. When she noticed me approaching the enclosure she neighed happily and whipped her head around proudly as she pranced up to the fence; I ran my fingers through her soft mane before jumping over the fence to join her in the enclosure. I grabbed some brushes from the barn and started by pampering her with a full head to toe brush; horses love the feeling of being brushed and its more like a massage to them rather then a way to keep their coats clean.

            Once she was fully brushed I exchanged the brushes for a riding blanket and kiddie saddle and tied her off to the fence post; she allowed me to put on the riding blanket without a fuss, I had done it with her many time before so she was use to the action by now. I took her rope off the fence and held it in my hand as I went for the saddle; I wasn’t sure how she would react since it’s the first time and if she freaked out I didn’t want her to hurt herself being tied up. I approached her with the saddle allowing her to sniff it out and get familiar with it before I tried to put it on her; the moment I moved the saddle to her back she reared up and knocked it off, although it was lightweight, less than twenty pounds, the feeling of the pressure on her back scared her. I was expecting that reaction and allowed her to calm down before trying again; after a good hour with no success I removed her blanket and lead rope and let her run the pasture. I knew it was going to take some time to get her broke into the new saddle and there was no use pushing her too far on her first day; after returning the blanket and saddle to the barn I headed up to the house to have some dinner.

“Hey Kit-Kat, how’d things go with Ginger?” My father asked when I sat down at the table; Kit-Kat was his nickname for me ever since I was little and he was the only one I allowed to use it; some people called me Kat but I mostly preferred Lina, no one really ever used my full name unless I was in trouble for something.

“Fine, it’s gonna’ take her some time to get used to the saddle she’s not likin’ the idea of it at all.” I replied before I reached over to grab a roll and some butter.

“Well if she’s anything like her momma you’ll be workin’ with her for a long time.” He leaned back in chair and placed his feet up on the chair next to him.

“Have some manners Thomas.” My mom scowled him shoving his feet off the chair as she walked in; I chuckled in response and she met me with a stern look effectively shutting me up; she placed a bowl of potatoes on the table before heading back into the kitchen for more food.

“Yes ma’am.” My father said smacking her on the ass as she walked back by; she giggled and I gagged.

“Dad!” Did he really have to do that stuff in front of me?

“What?” He asked innocently as if he did nothing wrong.

“That’s just gross; don’t do that in front of me.” I said returning my attention to buttering my roll.

“It was somethin’ pretty similar to that move that got you here so you shouldn’t complain.” He grinned and I pretended like I was about to be sick. Really? I did not want to here about thing events leading up to my conception right before I was going to be eating, or anytime for that matter.

“T.M.I.” I replied as my mother came back into the room.

“What’s TMI?” She asked setting down the meatloaf and taking a seat.

“Are you askin’ what it means or what we were talkin’ about that made me say it?” I asked; if my mother didn’t know what TMI meant I was going to shit a brick.

“What does it mean?” She asked innocently and I palmed my face at her lack of common knowledge for abbreviated words.

“It means too much information, Katherine.” My father answered for me. How does my dad know what it means and my mom doesn’t; shouldn’t it be the other way around?

“Well I just don’t see why you young-ins feel it’s necessary to abbreviate everything. What’s so wrong with just sayin’ what you mean?” She threw her hands in the air dramatically like using abbreviations was a huge deal.

“Nothin’ momma, it just saves time.” I replied hoping that she would just drop it and not go off on some stupid rant about ‘kids these days’.

“Well its just foolishness if you ask me.” She added before dishing out some meatloaf and started on her meal; my father and I shared a knowing look before joining her by filling our own plates. She could be so hardheaded sometimes.

“When are you expectin’ John’s son to get here?” My mother asked after we were half way into the meal; she was the only person I knew that ever called Bubba by his real name.

“If all the buses are on schedule I should be pickin’ him up in town Saturday afternoon.” My father replied with a smile; I could tell he was excited to finally get a chance to meet Bubbas son.

“Kat did you finish cleanin’ up John’s  place like I asked?” My mother turned her attention to me.

“Yes momma, I cleaned everything up but I didn’t take anything out I figured that I would leave that to Jon when he gets here. I didn’t know what he would want to keep and what he would want to get rid of so I thought it best to let him decide.”

“Ok dear.”

“I’m going to need you to show him the ropes when he gets here; with Bubba gone everyone else will be too busy and you can hold off on trainin’ that foal for a little while until he gets settled. You make sure that everyone makes him feel welcome, you hear?” My father added.

“Yes daddy.” We finished our meal with just a little more small talk before we all headed our separate ways to go to bed.

            I spent the rest of the week trying to break Ginger in with the new saddle but she wasn’t having it; I remember my father telling me that her mother was a hard one to break too and I could see this was one of those ‘like mother, like daughter’ cases. By the end of the week she got to the point where she would start rearing up the moment she seen me carrying the saddle out to the enclosure so I figured it was time to give her a little break; My father was leaving the next day to pick up Jon and I knew that I would be busy helping him get settled in for the next few weeks so hopefully by the time I’m done with all that she will be ready to try again. Giving up on Ginger for the day I made myself useful by cleaning out stalls and giving a few of the other horses much needed bathes; luckily they all seemed to enjoy the cool water, and I couldn’t help but spray a little on myself, I don’t care how long you live in Texas you never truly get used to the hundred degree sunny days.

            My father left Saturday morning to drive into a nearby town to meet and pick up Jon; all the workers including myself were anxious to meet him, we couldn’t help but wonder if he would be anything like his father. We all had our reservations seeing as how he had spent the last year and a half in prison and according to Bubba it wasn’t the first time he had spent some time in the pen; we wouldn’t judge him on it though, everyone has a past, all that matters is what you plan to do with your future. From the stories that his father would tell us he had changed a lot since he got locked up and was ready to start a new life for himself; we might not know him yet but we were willing to do whatever we could to help him choose the right path, its just the right thing to do and the southern way of living.