
picture credit: unknown
Voices of Life -- Some Better than Others
“Oh my God!”
Echoes from Jill and my mom. Tears streaming down their faces.
Jill whispers, “This is the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen.”
Watching in total awe, words escape me as I watch a beautiful, dark baby foal, wrapped in its white birthing sack, emerge from Phantom. The sack reminds me of the tight, plastic gloves I wore just an hour before as I did the evening dishes.
My mom is on her knees, pulling and guiding Phantom’s new gift into the world. Softly she whispers, “When one life is taken, another life is given.”
The next few minutes pass quietly as mother and baby rest on the straw and hay bed. Tenderly, Phantom begins to lick and clean her new arrival. Once clean, instinctively the new foal attempts to stand. I notice how she appears to be an unstable puppet with invisible strings. Her spindle legs wobble back and forth until she falls down onto her soft bed.
Phantom, noticing how her new foal is struggling; she shows her how to stand. Intently the new foal watches her mother. Many attempts later, success at last.
The new foal is a dark bay. Her black stocking legs proudly hold her dark brown body. She appears like a trophy on display.
The evening sun has settled itself behind the green mountains. The sky brightly lit with glowing stars and a crescent moon. Inside the barn walls, fluorescent lights are shining as our shadows appear, reminiscent of attached ghosts. Standing there, the three of us, each with an arm wrapped around the waist of the other. Crying.
I turn and hug my mom tight. Slowly walking over to Phantom, I settle on my knees. Her dark brownie eyes look up at me as I pick up her head, cradling it in my arms. My tears flowing freely. I stroke her long, thin nose, whispering in her ear, “She’s perfect Phantom. Just perfect.”
Standing on the foal’s bed, my mom and Jill caress the new arrival. Quietly, my mom recites to herself, “When one life is taken, another life is given.”
A year had passed since my dad’s death. The tragedy of his accident will always be a painful memory for me; yet at the same time, I am now more aware that life continues on. Death accompanies life, and rebirth follows.
In another year I hope that Phantom and I will once again enter the show ring. And Phantom’s new foal Destiny? She will begin her own story.
Pic credit: http://www.friesiansspectacular.com/images/marefoalM.jpghttp
Please note: this story is fiction, with some true facts.
It was four years after I was born. My parents decided to move back to my mom’s old homestead. My dad was a lawyer and he knew how much my mom loved living on the farm. She thrived in the openness and the caring for life. After all, that was why she had become a veterinarian. My dad’s firm had a satellite office within a 45-minute drive; an easy commute he though. The read deciding factor however, was the knowledge of my mom being pregnant with my younger sister Jill.
Life in the country was quiet, serene, but far from easy. Even though we didn’t have cows, chickens or a cornfield, we had horses. My mom loved horses, and she taught both Jill and me how to ride at a very young age. We learned how to feel the rhythm, glide our body with theirs, and understand the movement of the horse’s silent musical time – to flow with the animal as one.
My favorite way to ride was bareback; here you could feel the movement of the horse’s muscles. It reminded me of riding in a smooth, high-powered convertible sports car. Both left you with memories of freedom and feeling of empowerment over the constraints of life.
Early on Mom taught Jill and me two very important lessons. First, always be aware that freedom does not travel alone; it enlists danger as a passenger. Second, sometimes the least unexpected sound can spook the horse into unpredicted movements and situations. Always expect the unexpected.
One cool spring evening a light rain was falling and the unexpected was looming around the bend. It was on this evening an engine sputtered, the muscles stopped, the phone rang. A tractor-trailer had crossed the line of the narrow, winding road that led to our farm. In an instant, my father’s life was taken.
The memory of that evening always brings tears to my eyes. Tonight was not any different, as I wiped the wetness from my cheeks.
It is the sound of Jill and my mom crying, though, that stops the running reel of film from that pain memory.
Pic credit: http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_182/1188917300w1WoX1.jpg
i miss the sounds of ocean waves
memories,
your back leaning against the railing of the boat
blue green waters parting
as the ship moves towards the open arms of the shore
i am mesmorized
your open smile
dark hair blowing back
open body
open seas
moving closer
embracing our life, our love