Confession of a Cowgirl - Volume I
By Amy C. Witt
As I stare back at myself in the mirror, I contemplate if I am going to wear a straw hat or my favorite worn good ‘ol brown felt. I contemplate if I feel like putting on some makeup today or just some sun screen and roll. These are things I contemplate daily. I decide to go with the natural look and smear on some red lipstick. I feel good today, better than yesterday. I braid my hair and put on some turquoise studs before I start to prepare myself for the day.
I didn’t sleep last night. I tossed and turned thinking about the days ahead of me. I’ve been too distracted by the chaos of the world but I know I am safe out here on the ranch. My grandpa use to tell me to never allow people or the world to harden my heart and always allow my soul to run free.
But many times, my heart and soul are sunburnt, broken and lost on the range.
I constantly worry about everything and everyone around me. Many nights I run out to the barn to check on the baby calves or to take a head count of my dogs because I hear the howls of wolves creeping around in the dark. Sometimes, I worry that traumatic things will happen to the animals or the ranch while others times I worry about not working hard enough.
There’s days I can hardly crawl out of bed and others, I find myself struggling to buckle the straps of my spurs. I know how blessed I am. I know my lifestyle is one that many dream of. But, I also live a life of many struggles.
Sometimes, I feel like I’ve lost myself. Some days, I feel like I leave apart of myself somewhere out in the land. Most days, I saddle my horse and ride. When I ride, I free my mind from everything I can get lost in my own world. A world that is free from the struggles, the stigmas, the ugliness and nastiness of people, nature and the world in general.
And somedays, while I sit there and watch my tears drip into my glass of wine, I think about this stupid momma cow. That momma cow that smokes me down every single time. She is the definition of life. I get knocked on my back, stomped, kicked, beaten and bruised, only to get back up, dust myself off, run to get on my horse, grab my rope and choke that bitch down!
Photos by B. Lockett