So the other night I'm at the barn to do the PM clean and feed and after everything is done and the horses are munching their hay, I bring my boy out of his stall for a quick grooming. Remember to get your hands on him every time you are here, I remind myself. Young horses forget us when left to simple days of eating, sleeping, eating, and eating some more. Shedding block in one hand, brush in the other, I'm pulling out dead coat and smoothing new coat on his rump when suddenly I catch him turning his head to look for me. There's a beautiful bend in his neck and just there, at the crest of the curve, gleams a silvery shine. A silvery shine. Health.
That's one. Then today I took a friend to meet him. We walked to the fence. I called out and he came trotting over, covered in mud, happy for the attention, kid-like. Nose through the rails, then head high over the fence, lipping at our hands, eyes bright under those ridiculous white lashes. I felt myself smiling at him so broadly. Smile.
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