That Was The Last Time Anyone Saw Her

She packed her riding bag carefully the night before. So excited for the next day to arrive, maybe 5:30 am or earlier if the can’t sleep. She’d be riding a new horse, a feisty horse, a large horse even for her 5'9" frame. She just embraced a challenge like that. Fly, the horse, hadn’t been ridden much lately and if the hounds caught a scent she knew Fly would be a handful, she relished in that excitement, in that challenge.

She asked me to help her wrap a few small gifts she’d purchased for her friend’s one-year-old little girl who’s party she’d be attending after tomorrows hunt. We joked and laughed until our bellies hurt at the fact that she’d never, ever, been small enough to fit into such small and fashionable baby clothes, especially looking at those now never-ending legs. Marley may have been 18 but unlike most 18-year-olds she didn’t much give a dam of what others thought of her. She wore what she wanted, flannel shirts, blown out Birkenstocks, her hair done each day as the mood moved her and she loved to rock her height. She was never self-conscious of the altitude she had over others, even her male friends.

The gifts wrapped and placed in the back seat of her Subaru Impreza she was SO excited. I couldn’t imagine how she was going to get a wink of sleep. Mom, she said, “I’ll text you in the morning to let you know where to park and stuff” She bounded up the stairs of our log home to engage in her nightly routine before hitting the pillow. Her room was directly over the kitchen and I could hear her giggle softly and she settled into her flannel sheets. “Mama, Papa, I love you”, “We love you too Boo, sleep well” Jeffrey and I smiled and doubted she’d really get much sleep. Fox Hunting had become her love, her passion, it encompassed almost every waking thought, it had become her soul.

She snuck out quietly at 5:45 am to head for the barn. The horse she was riding was across the river in New Hampshire just a 15 min drive away. She’d have to feed him, get his tack organized, get the trailer organized for a morning of hunting, have a team breakfast at the farm then load up the four horses in the trailer. She texted me at 8:52 am to tell me where I should meet her. I still have that text on my phone and look at it from time to time remembering how ridiculously happy she was that day.

Her dad, Jeffrey and I caught glimpses of her from hillside distances. All dressed up for the occasion surrounded by the red hunt jackets. Binoculars in hand, we had a tough time sharing them through the eagerness of the excitement. Hounds howling, horses whinnying the energy in the air was so thick it should have dropped. Two horses wouldn’t jump over a 6-foot ditch but Fly just ploughed on like nothing and Marley beamed her huge white teeth smile with pride and perhaps a bit of surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so happy, so confident, so full.

After the hunt when the horses finally cycled back into the field we could see her scanning for us. She looked pooped, covered in mud but content, very content. She was so proud of Fly, and herself I suppose for staying on and managing the well-known finicky horse. She talked a mile a minute, hardly able to keep up with what her brain was recalling. Jeffrey and I could only look at each other and laugh. This is when parenting felt amazing. We loved those moments, they’re so rich and even more so now.

She couldn’t stop hugging Fly, she was just SO proud of him. She untacked him and gave him a nice slow sponge bath and relished in making him feel good, clean and loved. After a lavish pot-luck field lunch, she was digging through her car, going through her clothes and other things. I ‘d asked her if she’d have a place to shower before heading to the birthday party and she assured me she’d shower at the farm and she’d packed everything she’d need. In the midst of her still-excited chatter, she handed me her camera. The camera that we’d given to her 11 months ago at Christmas. The camera that she’d taken photography courses with, the camera she hardly let out of her sight, the camera she wouldn’t let anyone touch and asked me to take it home and put it in her room. With her camera in hand, I couldn’t resist taking a few photos of her, up close, happy and proud, mud and all. Those were the last three photos ever taken of her.

Jeffrey and I headed back home, only 8 miles away, Marley headed to the farm to do what she needed to do with the horses and shower, then head north to Groton for the birthday party. Her friend Delilah tells me she did just that. Delilah and John waved goodbye as she headed down the dirt lane tooting her horn as if to say thanks, that was great, I can’t wait to do it again.

That was the last time anyone saw her.

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