This is a love letter to ice.

Dearest Ice:

You are the unsung hero of my eventing career.

How many events were you there for me, in a muck tub, keeping my older ride sound when the ground got hard?

And when the sun blazed down and cooked us in the field, and we swam through humidity to find our cross country fences, you were there in buckets at the end to cool our horses down.

The world keeps trying to reinvent you. Ice vibe boots. Ice packs. Magickal ice. But there is only one king, only one true master of cooling and inflammation.

You can't tell but he is standing in a tub.

Now in my darkest hour you are there, every day. I think the cashier at CVS is starting to recognize me. I wonder what she thinks when I stop in every single day. She wonders, 'what the hell could this purple haired girl possibly be doing with all this ice. Even when it's cold enough for jackets outside she still comes in and buys one bag like a crazy person.'

But she doesn't know. She can't judge our relationship from the outside.

You are the only one who cools Godzilla's anger.

You are the only one who stands with me against the splint.

Thank you, ice. For always being there for me. Until you melt.

Love,
Megan