Not Disney. Just Home.

Today is the last day in class before we pack up and head north again. The next stop is near Disney World, close enough to feel the pull of it. Sunshine. Parks. The kind of place people get excited about.

But I’m not going.

And honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing out.

If I could choose, I’d be in Cloverdale this weekend. Inside that indoor arena with the heat on. Standing by the rail. Watching my kids run cans without frozen fingers or stiff horses. Listening to hooves hit good dirt while winter stays outside the walls. That’s where my heart is.

Ironically, it’s supposed to be 28 degrees in Orlando while we’re there. Freeze warnings and all. Almost feels like home, just with palm trees instead of snow drifts. Kind of funny how that works.

It’s been so cold lately that riding has been spotty at best. Frozen ground. Short daylight. That winter drag that settles into the barn and into your bones. You can feel morale dip when routines get disrupted. Horses get fresh. Kids get restless. Everyone feels behind.

That’s why I’m hoping the rodeo helps.

Not for trophies. Not for big wins.

I just want successful runs.

Clean turns. Calm minds. Kids walking out of the arena feeling proud of how they showed up, even if the clock doesn’t love them back. That’s enough for me right now.

I’m also hoping the trailer actually makes it out of the driveway through the snow drifts. That feels like a fair goal. Maybe Ella brings her new baby goats along and everyone dotes on them between runs. Maybe. The thought alone makes me smile.

Last night helped too.

Colleagues finally relaxed. Appetizers hit the table. Laughter loosened up the room. Someone ordered mocha espresso martinis and then everyone did. Those were a hit. For a moment, no one was rushing. No one was proving anything. Just people being people after long days.

And still, even in that warmth, I missed my kids.

The twins left me with stuffies to bring. Quiet little stand ins tucked into my bag. Kelly was the last text I saw before I shut my migraine stricken eyes. That one stayed with me. It always does.

This is the part no one glamorizes.

Loving your life and missing it at the same time.

Choosing responsibility while wishing you were standing by the rail instead of sitting in a classroom or a conference room. Knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, while your heart is already somewhere else.

I don’t need Disney magic this week.

I need arena heat. Dirt that’s ready. Kids finding their rhythm again. Horses doing their best with what winter gave them. A trailer that starts. A barn that feels hopeful again.

That’s enough magic for me.

If you want, I can also spin a shorter social post that nods to “heated arena vs. freezing Orlando” with a little humor.