It’s like when you’d break up with your boyfriend. He’d be upset. You’d be upset because he was upset. And you’d get to thinking it wasn’t that bad when you were together. But it was, obviously. Bad enough that you ended it. Just that vital fact would get forgotten in the ‘he’s-upset-now-I’m-upset; have-I-done-the-right-thing?’ moment.
How I held him and snuck out to feed him bottles of milk while Elsie and Maeve weren’t looking so that I didn’t have to share?
And then, it wasn’t so much that we fell out of love as we started to lose respect for each other. He ate my plants. I swung an empty milk bucket at his head with every intention of making contact.
He went to graze in the paddock with the rest of the mob.
Well, yesterday we sheared that mob. (Shore?)
And Jackson and I got back together for a bit.
He jumped up onto the platform to get back into the shearing shed to hang out at cut-out (Cut-out: the end of shearing at a particular shed. The farmer might offer the shearers a cool drink. Or enjoy one himself.)
And for a moment I thought maybe Jackson and I could try again, see if we could work things out.
Then he started eating the straw broom on the board.
And I remembered why we broke up. He’s not moving back in. We’re just friends. One of those cases of ‘It’s not me. It’s you…’