8 days

The days are numbered and it's a bittersweet farewell that awaits me in 8 days. In many ways I feel a deep sadness when I think about leaving this entire life I've created -- all my friends (both two and four-legged, and even those with trunks and stems), the ever-changing hills, the familiar noises, smells.

This big change leaves me stressed at times but it's when I finally go to milk in the evenings that I feel most at ease. In the warm barn with the sweet smells of milk, manure, hay, and grass combining in my nostrils I feel completely at peace. I listen to the streams of milk hitting the sides of the pail and rest my face against the soft, warm belly of Pinto, Mapache or Arnica. My arms contract rhythmically, left, right, left, right. Slowly, the world outside the barn melts away.

I know if I measured my time at Full Belly in terms of cow milking, I might see this final week as an adequate time to leave, a graduation of sorts. After my first brief encounter with teat pulling back in September, I didn't really start to milk officially until my second week here, way back in January. In those distant days, milking was not a calming experience. I awaited my milking duties with apprehension and even a bit of embarrassment. I remember pulling at Arnica's bursting udders, only to squeeze out a few drops of milk every so often into the pail. Dru would always take over after her side was done and I would watch in wonder as she withdrew gallons of milk in gushing streams. Months passed and I steadily improved; my triceps became more noticeable and my biggest honor came one day when Dru finally remarked at my skills. But it was really only last week that I finally reached my highest accomplishment, I self-promoted myself to milk all alone. Being up there by myself was the ultimate milking experience when the sounds of the milk, my breathing, and Pinto's soft chewing were really all there was.

It's funny to say this but I somehow feel ready to leave now that I've accomplished this small task. What seemed so impossible at the beginning is suddenly ordinary and very attainable.