I suppose that’s a pretty ironic title for me to use since I’ve never been on a saddle or a horse. Nope. That birthday pony a million years ago that my dad walked me around in circles on, that doesn’t count.

It’s just as well. I mean, I’m a little afraid of those huge beasts. I admire their beauty and grace from afar, but I like a fence between us.

On the other hand, I do like cowboy boots, cowboy hats, and one good-looking cowboy-wannabe, in particular, and it ends there.

But I’ll indulge the cultural use of that saddle to mean, finally, I went back to work after a forced vacation due to the crazy weather around here. I missed my office. I missed my door. I missed the lock on the door.

I did not miss the whiny students.

I also missed a part of my day that had come to mean a great deal to me. It started off as a little joke, an opportunity to run away from the madness in the office and eat my lunch in peace. I’d sit in a parking lot across from a fairly good view of Stone Mountain and make all kinds of silly jokes about visiting the rock, but eventually, it really did become an oasis. A spiritual oasis at that, since it was perfect for some reflection, prayer, and more often than not, just a place to sit in silence.

Funny how I am always seeking silence. Even when I’m blaring music in the car at 80 decibels. Except at the rock.