Runaway Pony on Christmas Eve

Once there was a girl named Melissa. Melissa was ten years old. She lived on a big farm. Melissa had a big family and a lot of animals. She loved them all, but she mostly loved her horse Comet. Comet was a nice horse and a really white horse too.

On Christmas Eve, Melissa went out to feed the animals. When she went to Comet’s stall, he was gone. Melissa was very sad when Comet ran away. She called her father and ran to the house. She said, “Father, father! Comet is gone! He ran away!”

Her father said, “We will find him. Go get in the truck. We will look for him.” They looked and looked for him but did not find him. Melissa fell on the ground and cried.

Comet ran and ran to Santa's workshop. Santa and all the other horses were waiting for him at the sleigh. Santa walked over to Comet and said “Ho, ho, ho. I’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been, buddy?” Santa went to the barn to tack the horses to the sleigh. Santa went to get his bags of toys and put them in the sleigh. He whistled and called their names. “Now Dasher, and Dancer, now Prancer, and Vixen. On Comet, and Cupid, on Donder, Blitzen.” Santa went to Troy’s house, Molly’s house and Chris and LuLu’s house. Santa gave all the toys he had. Santa came home and he untacked the horses from the sleigh. He let them go home to their people.

Melissa went to see if Comet was home. Melissa saw Comet. Melissa opened the stall door and said hi to him and gave him a hug. Then she felt a harness on him with jingle bells on it.

(Back to Top)

Christmas Gifts

Eliza knew she would need lots of volunteer hours if she ever wanted to get into Harvard, so deciding to combine volunteering with her love of horses she started helping out at Pine Lake, a therapeutic riding center. At first side walking (walking alongside a rider, sometimes supporting his or her leg or just being there to straighten the rider if he or she slips) and leading horses in continuos circles seemed tedious. Eliza almost ended up quitting, but she stuck with it. After a few weeks Eliza began to open up and talk with a few of the clients. She was particularly fond of a shy ten-year-old rider named Alexis. Alexis had leukemia, but wanted to learn to ride despite her sickness. Like Eliza, Alexis loved horses and although she lived on a farm, her family had never owned a horse.

As weeks turned to months and Christmas grew near, Eliza and Alexis became close friends despite their five-year age difference. They both shared the dream of one day owning their own horse. Alexis would frequently tell Eliza about the bay quarter horse she wanted. She could describe every detail of her dream horse, but she would say she wanted to meet him before naming him. Whenever Alexis questioned Eliza about her dream horse, Eliza wistfully replied any horse that could whip around the barrels. Alexis promised to be Eliza’s number one fan and be at every event.

The only thing that would dampen their day dreams was that Eliza could see Alexis’s condition steadily worsen. She was very worried about young Alexis. One day when Alexis’s mom, Sharon, was picking up Alexis, Sharon pulled Eliza aside and told her how grateful she was for Eliza’s friendship with Alexis. Sharon said Alexis looked forward to lessons and to seeing Eliza. Sharon felt riding with Eliza brought great joy to the sick girl’s life. However, Sharon wanted Eliza to know that Alexis had already lived longer than the family had expected. Their doctor felt Alexis would not live to see the new year. Eliza was stunned and afraid for Alexis.

With Christmas only two weeks away and her family having financial troubles, Eliza knew her dream of owning a horse would not come true this Christmas, but after hearing about Alexis’s fragile condition, she became determined to make her friend’s dream come true. The next time Eliza saw Sharon she mentioned Alexis’s dream saying she did not know how Sharon stood financially but Alexis had a dream and if this was her last Christmas, the dream should come true. Eliza never saw Alexis again. Alexis stopped coming to the stable after that day. On December 27, Sharon called Eliza. Tearfully, Sharon explained that Alexis had died the previous night after spending only one day with her beloved Christmas present Danny, a quarter horse gelding. Sharon went on to say that before Alexis died, her wish had been that Danny be given to Eliza.

Eliza was so stunned by grief and surprise, she was silent. Sharon gently asked Eliza if she wanted Danny. Eliza was very touched by the offer, but she knew there was no way she or her family could afford a horse; she sadly told Sharon that it would be impossible for her to take Danny. Sharon said not to worry. She would let Danny stay at her farm and pay any bills, it would be what Alexis would want and it was little thanks for all the joy Eliza brought to Alexis. Eliza and Danny went on to become world champion barrel racers. Eliza said Alexis was always there, cheering her on.

(Back to Top)

A Christmas Ride

Megan threw on the saddle, fastened her helmet, hopped on the little pony, and her face lit up with happiness. I’m riding again!

Megan loved horses. She was crazy about them! She rode western and English and she jumped and did dressage too. She had a beautiful little Palomino pony that did just about everything. Megan couldn’t be happier.

"Mom, I’m going out to ride Sunny. Okay?"

"Okay Megan, but be careful." Megan’s mom said. "I will." Megan replied.

Megan went to the barn and greeted her pony. She brushed him up really nice and she put a saddle and bridle on him. She fastened her helmet and mounted Sunny.

Megan and Sunny walked around on the snow covered ground. They trotted and loped around the big corral. The sun was warm and it shone on Sunny. His coat sparkled and glimmered brightly.

Since it was nice out, Megan decided to set up a few jumps, just for fun. She went over the jumps smoothly and gracefully. Megan and Sunny were a great team, and when it came to jumping, they understood each other completely. They were having a good time together and all was going well. Megan wanted to do one last jump before she gave Sunny a break. She imagined that she was at a big Hunter/Jumper show and she was approaching her final fence. Megan two-pointed and prepared to go over the jump. Just then, a chicken that had gotten loose from the barn ran out and screeched loudly. Sunny wasn’t ready for that to happen. He stopped and turned very quickly in front of the jump. Megan couldn’t stay on. Her foot twisted in the stirrup and she went flying off Sunny. Even though the snow cushioned her fall, her leg crashed down on the jump. The pain in Megan’s foot was intense, and then there was darkness.

Megan opened her eyes slowly and felt drowsy. She looked around and she saw monitors and she heard beeping. The room was white and Megan sat up to get a better look. She turned to look for her mom and she felt a sharp pain in her right foot.

Then, Megan remembered that she had been jumping Sunny and imagining that she was at a show.

"Am I still imagining?" she asked herself. "Am I dreaming and I still haven’t waken up?" Megan was confused.

A few seconds later, a doctor and Megan’s mom came into the room. They started mumbling words that she couldn’t understand. Then Megan’s mom came over to the bed. "Megan, how are you feeling?"

"I don’t know? Where am I?"

"You’re at the hospital. You had a bad fall when you were jumping."

The doctor came over and showed Megan some X-rays of her foot.

"You have several fractures in your foot. I’m afraid that you won’t be able to ride for quite some time." A few surgeries later and Megan was on her way back home. She wobbled around on crutches and got used to walking with them. Megan headed out to the barn and talked to Sunny. She hadn’t seen him in over a month. Megan began to cry and she gave Sunny a big hug. Tears streamed down her face and she wanted so badly to ride.

Sunny put his muzzle to Megan’s face and gave a soft whinny. He knew that she was upset.

A few months later, Megan was healing well. She wouldn’t be able to start physical therapy until May or June. She went out into the barn every day and talked to Sunny and brushed him. She wanted to ride, but if she fell off again, or if she stood on her foot the wrong way, it would take even longer to heal. Megan wasn’t taking any chances. She wanted to get better so that she could ride.

It was finally June and Megan started her physical therapy for her foot. She did many exercises and her foot was becoming better.

By about October, she had a walking cast on her foot and started walking without crutches. She was excited when she thought about getting better and being able to ride her pony. Megan was so determined to ride again. She wanted every day to ride Sunny, but not yet.

Christmas Eve came, and Megan’s foot was almost healed. Her family sat together in the living room and watched a holiday movie. They played games and had their own small party. Everyone was happy.

Before Megan went to sleep on Christmas Eve she looked out her window and saw a big, bright star. She made a wish on that star and it was this, "I wish that tomorrow, on Christmas Day, I could ride my pony Sunny." Megan crawled into her warm bed and fell asleep. She dreamed all night of galloping through the snowy fields, and jumping swiftly and smoothly without fault. She dreamt that Sunny was the Hunter/Jumper champion.

When Megan woke up, the sun was bright and the snow was sparkling. Megan looked out her window and saw Sunny prancing in the soft snow. She went into the kitchen and sat down to eat some breakfast. Just then the phone rang and Megan’s mom answered it.

"Hello? Oh hi Dr. Philips. ………. Oh yes, I’ll tell her right away. Merry Christmas. Bye."

"Megan, that was the doctor on the phone. Do you know what he said?"

Megan jumped with excitement. She knew what her mom was going to say. "What did he say?" Megan asked.

"He said that you could ride today!"

Megan was so excited that she hopped all the way to the barn. She threw her arms around Sunny and kissed his muzzle. "My wish came true!" Megan shouted. "I get to ride!" Megan threw on the saddle, fastened her helmet, hopped on the little pony, and her face lit up with happiness. I’m riding again!

(Back to Top)

I Think I Must Be Santa
I think I must be Santa
But I ain’t got no beard.
An’ my belt’s not patent leather,
Cuz, well, that would just look weird.

My Carhartts ain’t no velvet coat
All trimmed in furs of white.
An’ my worn out Stetson don’ come close…
But hey, his hat ain’t quite right.

My body’s toned and sinewed.
Ain’t no "jelly" shakin’ when I laugh.
‘N’ last Christmas it weren’t toys I delivered,
But a white-faced Hereford calf.

And I ain’t got no workforce
Of tiny little men,
My guys are cowpokes through an’ through
Who rope, ‘n’ cut, ‘n’ pen.

Got tins of Skoal and bonus checks
In the saddlebags on Joe’s back,
‘Stead of gifts of trucks and baby dolls
Tucked away in a bottomless sack.

I drive a herd of cattle
And an old Dodge full of hay,
‘Stead of flying reindeer an’
A bright, red open sleigh.

Ya know, I must be Santa,
As far as the animals go.
‘Cus I see to their every need
Through rain, ‘n’ sleet, ‘n’ snow.

The cows, they come a runnin’
When they see me gettin’ near
An’ it’s not the sound of jingle bells
That they all strain to hear.

Naw, it’s the rumble of the diesel
And the promise of fresh feed
I’m sure I must be Santa,
Cuz I give ‘em what they need.

So ya see, I must be Santa
Though my looks don’t fit the bill.
I give my all each and every day
And I guess I always will.

(Back to Top)

Beautiful Christmas Horses
Beautiful Christmas Horses
Christmas horses covered with snow,
they’re so beautiful I hope you know.
They prance and jingle wherever they go,
they make people smile and go on for miles,
Christmas horses all warm in bed,
all snug and cozy laying on their sawdusty beds.
Horses never so beautiful as slick brown hair
And golden manes flying everywhere.
Christmas horses go to bed
are even more beautiful Christmas morning.

(Back to Top)

Horse Medicine

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Tom’s question replayed in Ruth’s mind as she, alone, drove the SUV down the snow-covered driveway and paused at the road. A brown UPS truck slowed as it passed her, the driver peering at mailbox numbers as he made his way down the slippery road of the modest subdivision, delivering last minute Christmas gifts. "She doesn’t know you’re there," Tom’s voice echoed again. "She doesn’t look at you. Nothing you do is going to change that." But having said his piece, her husband of thirty years then offered to accompany her to visit her mother in the retirement center where she’d been for the past five years, slipping away more every day, locked in a world of her own where Ruth could not go. Ruth quickly said no. Her careful plan would fall apart if Tom insisted on coming with her. He didn’t.

With a guilty glance, Ruth left him to decorate their tiny tree alone, something they usually did together on Christmas Eve.

Ruth parked in front of the glass doors with their cheerful "Merry Christmas" stenciled in white catching the last of the afternoon sun’s pale rays.

Ruth knew well the maze of hallways that led to the nurse’s station by her mother’s room. Her mother’s day nurse was still there, no doubt watching the clock and hoping Ruth would change her mind or come after her shift ended.

Ruth exhaled, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. Like a spy in a movie, she walked to the desk with a studied nonchalance–"Think we can pull this off?" she asked in a staged whisper.

The nurse was not amused. "You are determined to do this, aren’t you, Ruth?" Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "You need to make sure to have your mother back in four hours. The portable oxygen will last six, but I like to be on the safe side."

Ruth nodded. She dreaded what was coming next. "And we’ve put extra pads in a bag for you. I don’t think you’ll need to change your mom, but if you do, you’ll have everything thing you need." The nurse said matter-of-factly.

Ruth grimaced. She made a quick agreement with God that if she didn’t have to change her mom’s diaper, then she would attend church more. Really.

"Ma!" Ruth said brightly to the seated form in the wheelchair. "It’s me, Ruth. I thought you might like to take a drive and see the Christmas lights." And something else, real special, too, Ma, Ruth added silently.

The slumped woman in the wheelchair didn’t move. The pulsing puffs of the oxygen tube in her nostrils were the only sign she was alive. Her eyes were frozen in a half-open stare at some unseen object in the distance. Ruth saw that her mother was dressed warmly in a sweater and slacks. A red knitted blanket lay over her lap; a heavy jacket hung on the back of the chair.

Ruth followed as the nurse pushed the wheelchair down the hall to the exit doors.

"Watch how I lift her," the nurse said as she pushed the chair close to the open door of the SUV, put on the brake and then, with a professional ease reached under the woman’s arms and lifted her to a standing position, turned slightly, and seated her into the vehicle.

"Make sure your mom’s sitting straight and put the seatbelt on," the nurse reminded Ruth.

Ruth put the wheelchair into the back, then with a half-hearted wave at the nurse, got into the SUV herself, and shut the door.

"Ready, Ma?" she asked glancing over.

The puff of the oxygen was the only response.

"Look at those lights, Ma!" Ruth said occasionally as they drove. After all, she told herself, she didn’t want her ma to get suspicious and spoil the surprise. Still, Ruth noticed sadly, no matter how grand the lights were that gleamed feebly in the early darkness, her mother never looked up.

* * * It had taken Ruth a long time to find what she was looking for. Of course, distance was important –it couldn’t be too far – it had to be heated, and most important, it had to be accessible by car. Not too many places would let you drive your vehicle right inside. For a while, Ruth thought no one would help her to surprise her mother. Then, just as she’d almost given up, at the last places she’d called, the owner of a small stable on the outside of town, agreed to help.

Ruth had driven to the farm twice, once to make sure she could find it, and once to see how long it would take to drive from the retirement center.

Ruth pulled in and honked her horn.

At the end of the driveway, a wide door to the inside of the heated arena opened, spilling golden light into the gloom. Ruth had only talked to Sheila by telephone, but guessed it was she who stood by the door, beckoning her to drive inside. Ruth drove the SUV into the sawdust-covered arena. "I hope it’s warm enough," Sheila said, shutting the doors.

"It feels fine." Ruth wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor that she hadn’t expected. She’d had no idea horses smelled like this. The only horses she’d ever seen had been on the television or movies.

"Ma, this is Sheila," Ruth said opening the passenger door as she set the wheelchair’s brake. "Ma doesn’t talk much." Ruth added lamely glancing at Sheila, "Well, she doesn’t talk."

"You said she asked to see the horses, didn’t you?" Sheila asked.

Caught in a lie, Ruth’s face turned a bright crimson. She turned away from the puzzled woman and eased her mother into the wheelchair, then settled the portable oxygen tank beside her.

Straightening up, Ruth saw a movement in the shadowed corner of the heated riding ring. It was a black horse, now standing still, its shiny coat gleaming in the artificial light. It must have been there the entire time, Ruth thought. She didn’t realize it would be so big. Did it bite?

"I seem to have misunderstood," Sheila said, her tone drawing Ruth’s eyes away from the horse. "I thought your mom wanted to come here to see the horses and you were bringing her as kind of a Christmas present."

Ruth confessed. "When I was going through ma’s things after she moved to the retirement center, I found pictures of her riding on a horse with a bunch of cows and a mountain in the background. The date on the pictures was 1938. Ma must have been twenty or so. I was curious, so I Googled my own mother on the Internet."

Ruth paused, embarrassed.

"I found out that before she met my dad, she’d been married to a man in Wyoming. He died in WWII. She must have come back East. She’d been raised in the East. She met my dad. They got married, but didn’t work out. He left us. I blamed her, and she blamed herself. You’d think we’d be close, but we weren’t. I got married young and moved away. When she got older; I was the only family she had. Finally, she moved to the retirement center nearby. I thought we’d spend time together. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her. But it was too late. She doesn’t talk anymore."

Ruth leaned against the SUV, one hand on her mother’s wheelchair behind her. "I never could stop thinking about how happy Ma looked on that horse. She was young. She was in love. She had all her life ahead of her. In my whole life, I never saw her look that happy. At Thanksgiving, I had an idea. I thought if she could see a horse again it might make her happy." Hearing her own explanation aloud for the first time, Ruth felt foolish.

Ruth turned back to her mother and froze.

Without being heard, the black horse had come around behind the SUV and now stood directly in front of her mother. Its nose was outstretched. Soft black lips moved delicately, nudging at the lap blanket. Horrified, Ruth saw it open its mouth and tug at the edge of the blanket. Ruth drew in a sharp breath to scream.

She clamped her own hand over her mouth to hold it in. Her eyes widened.

From under the blanket, a bird-like hand moved upward in a shaky arch.

The horse released the blanket. Its ears pricked sharply forward. For a moment there was no sound.

A whoosh of breath came from two quivering nostrils as one finger extended from the gnarled fist and touched the black nose.

From where she stood, Ruth could only hear the faintest sound of a quavering voice that had been silent for five years:

"Did you know, Ruth, I used to be a cowboy?" her mother said.

(Back to Top)

A Perfect Ride

"Grandma, there’s an angel!" Helen’s granddaughter exclaimed, pointing to the sky.

"Why, so there is," Helen replied, smiling as she craned her neck upwards. "I see a dragon next to it, too." "Oh, it’s blowing smoke!" nine year old Jackie said. The two were sitting in the park, playing one of their favorite games. They took turns finding shapes made from the billowing clouds in the sky.

A huge smile crossed Jackie’s face.

"Grandma, there is a galloping horse," Jackie said, as they both gazed at the clouds moving swiftly across the sky. Jackie knew that Grandma had many wonderful memories of her youth spent on horseback. Helen would regale her grandchildren with stories spent of times on her horses: cantering across open fields, jumping streams, picking apples from trees to share with her friends, and making up riding games with her sister and friends.

"Tell me about the treasure hunt you liked to play," Jackie begged.

"Again?" Helen answered, but her eyes lit up. "My sister Marie and I took turns creating riding courses for our friends. We made maps that included different places to cross the stream and clues for places to find trinkets hanging from the trees. Our friends would have to bring us specially painted rocks or flowers, as detailed on our maps. The treasure spot would usually be a picnic somewhere. What a glorious way to spend the summer!

"That horse up there looks like my favorite horse Holly," she sighed.

"Now it’s time to head in for supper," she said, as she stretched her stiff legs, leaned into her cane, and moved slowly in to Jackie’s house.

A month later, Helen and Jackie’s family were waiting outside a restaurant, waiting for Jackie’s dad to pull the car up after Helen’s 82nd birthday lunch. Jackie glanced up to the clouds and then grabbed Helen’s coat jacket by the arm.

"Look, the galloping horse is back," she exclaimed. "It can’t be the same one, " Helen answered, smiling. As she gazed at it, she thought it did look very similar to the one they had previously seen. What a coincidence. For the next several weeks, Helen started to notice the horses on a regular basis. She could not deny their presence, though she kept the thoughts to herself. Maybe she was conjuring frozen air into equines, maybe she was going senile, or maybe the shapes were truly there, watching over her. As autumn changed to winter she discovered horses in many shades, galloping across the sky—a black Fresian at nightfall, a white colt, a chestnut gelding jumping low mauve clouds.

As suddenly as she and Jackie first found the horses, they disappeared. They seemed to have migrated south with the birds now that the holidays were approaching. December rain then hit, cold and bitter. The sky remained gray for several weeks, a thick layer of immovable clouds atop the sky.

Warming aromas of cinnamon, gingerbread and chocolate filled the house as Helen, her daughter Sharon, and granddaughters Jackie and Emma baked trays of cookies and candies to last throughout the holidays.

"Grandma, I made a cut out of Holly, your favorite horse. I am coloring her red for you, " Jackie said. "She’s beautiful," Grandma replied.

"I made a green Santa Claus. Will people know who he is?" six-year old Emma asked.

"Of course they will. He has his beard," Sharon replied. "I’m going to cut the fudge now," Helen said, getting out a tin to store it in.

After the long day of mixing, cutting, rolling, baking, and decorating, Helen and Sharon were cleaning up the kitchen. "Mom, go take a nap. You look exhausted," Sharon said to Helen.

"If you think you can finish this job yourself," Helen replied, surveying the sugar covered counters. "Not a problem. When I am done we can order some dinner. We deserve it after all this work," Sharon smiled. Helen hugged her granddaughters, kissed them both on the head, and went wearily to the guest room to lay down for a rest. She fell asleep fast and hard, enveloped by darkness. She was standing silently, then heard a soft nicker and a velvet nose gently pushing her. She moved liquidly, languidly through the blackness, and eventually she could see shadows around her. As she felt her strength growing, she saw the azure sky in the distance, the rolling hills dotted with a rainbow of flowers.

When she looked to see who her companion was, she was stunned to see it was her favorite mare Holly from her childhood. Holly gazed at her, a glimmer in her eye. "It was you. I knew you were watching me from the skies," Helen whispered in awe.

She glanced down to see she was still wearing her snowflake sweater dusted in flour, shoeless. Her hands were still lined, but she felt stronger, younger. When they emerged into the crystalline summer day, Holly halted. She whinnied and shook her head, asking Helen to climb aboard her young, broad back.

"I haven’t ridden in 25 years. I don’t think I remember how to do this anymore," Helen laughed.

Holly stamped her hoof in impatience, waiting for Helen. Helen sighed, found a stump to use a mounting block, then mounted her favorite of all her horses. Holly walked away from the tunnel as Helen’s memory kicked in, those years of riding simply hiding in her head. After a short walk, Helen gently squeezed Holly’s sides, and the mare began to trot. Ascending the hillside, Helen smoothly took Holly’s chestnut mane, savoring the touch, the smell, the feel. When they reached the crest of the hill, Helen and Holly traversed the peak, trotting then cantering, the years disappearing from her aged, tired body. She laughed aloud as they galloped along, birds flying above them, racing their shadows. Then she saw the Christmas garland hanging out of place, shimmering on a branch. A clue, like from one of her childhood games. She reached to grab it, without slowing her pace, grasping the silver tinsel in her hand as the end trailed behind them.

Helen spotted a stream below. They trotted down to it, the water glinting like diamonds in the sun, matching the silver shade in her hand. Helen dismounted at the water’s edge, scooping handfuls of cool, clear water into her mouth. Holly lowered her head and guzzled water from the stream. Then Helen saw sitting by a flat rock on the water’s edge, her prize at the end of the ride. There were two cookies laid out for her: a red pony and a green Santa, and a blooming orange poppy. She took a bite from the edge of Santa’s hat, and inhaled the summer scent of the flower. "Thank you for this moment, this wonderful time. I have missed you so much Holly, even with all the other horses that have come and gone from my life. Thank you for one more perfect ride. It’s time for me to rest now," Helen stated, as she sat on the rock and closed her eyes, her friend standing by her side.

At dinnertime Sharon was surprised that Helen was not awake and went to check on her. Helen was laying very still. When Sharon went to wake her, she did not open her eyes. "Mom? Mom?" she asked, panic rising in her voice, as she shook her mother’s shoulder.

Helen was barely smiling, faint tear streaks on her cheeks. But she was no longer breathing.

Sharon ran to the phone and frantically called 9-1-1. The ambulance came, but it was too late. Helen had slipped away during her nap.

Sharon’s husband took care of the girls, so Sharon could spend a few minutes alone with her mother. First, she spotted a bright green oak leaf caught up in her mother’s hair.

"Where did this come from?" she wondered, as she pulled it out.

She pulled back the covers slightly and saw that Helen was clenching several long chestnut strands of hair, too coarse to be human. In the other hand was a poppy, just starting to droop.

"That’s odd" Sharon thought, as she gently removed them, tears on her cheeks.

Perplexed, Helen removed the rest of the covers. She was stunned to see that Helen’s feet were filthy. There was damp mud on them, as if she had just walked.

"Where have you been? And where have you gone now?" Sharon asked, crying and smiling together. And she knew in an instant that somehow, her mother had been on one final ride. "I will miss you so much. I love you. I hope you had a wonderful early Christmas gift, to be with your old friends once again," Sharon kissed her mother gently good-bye. "Be at peace."

A Winsome Wish

“Honey, you’re not going to the barn right now, are you?” sighed mom. “What about opening our presents first?”

“I have to go see Winsome. I want to keep the routine the same,” I explain. I wasn’t going to admit to my mom or anyone else that the doubts were crowding out the hope in my heart.

“I’ll eat when I come back and then presents, okay? Please mom.”

I pull on my down barn jacket and insulated boots. The air bites my cheeks as I step out the back door. My eyes start tearing from the cold, or maybe they’re just tears of frustration, doesn’t make a difference to me at this point. The snow is smooth and crusty from last night’s storm. My boots crunch through the top and land in six inches of powder beneath. The early morning is completely still.

The half-mile walk to the neighbor’s barn is cold and long. The Conners were kind enough to take in my rescue horse. They knew nothing of horses, but their daughter had two retired hunters on their farm. They agreed to let me keep Winsome there in exchange for chores.

For the past eight months I’ve walked over early to check on the horses and then again after school. For eight months Winsome has avoided or ignored me. he was abused and still won’t let me touch him. He will tolerate me standing near him when he eats his pellets. I try to do everything exactly the same, so as not to scare him. I’ve been so careful, but he still backs away if I hold out my hand to him. My friends at school talk about the fun they have riding and competing and I can’t even touch my horse!

The hot tears are rolling freely as I slide open the weathered wooden stable door. The hunters nicker a welcome. I look around to see if Winsome followed them in from the pasture. I spot him in the back corner. As I open the feed bin, each horse moves towards its bucket. The chestnut paws the floor and the bay stands patiently. I pour a scoop into each bucket. I wait for Winsome to approach his, but he only gazes at me from the dark corner.

Seems today that I won’t even get the pleasure of watching him eat. The months of frustration finally burst forth and I sit down and cry. What was I thinking? I was so sure I could fix him in a couple of weeks. Surely by now, I should be at least grooming and handling him. I’ve done everything to gain his trust and prove I’m reliable. Maybe mom is right and it’s time to give him to someone with more experience. I feel like a total failure.

I bury my face in my mittens and try to stop the tears. I sit listening to the hunters chewing. The sound is rhythmic and soothing. I smell the fresh scent of hay and the musk of horses.

Suddenly there is a small gust of warm breath on the top of my head. I remain still; thinking it is one of the hunters taking pity on me. There is another snuff on my mitten. I quietly and deliberately separate my mittens.The muzzle in my face is gray! Winsome! I cup my hands and he continues to snuff and gently mouth my wool mittens and hair. He stops for a moment, tilts an eye my way and lets out a heavy sigh. He then nonchalantly turns to his bucket and begins to eat. Slowly, rhythmically, quietly.

The hunters finish their meals and head towards the open doorway to the pasture. They stop at the trough to drink. Winsome finishes his meal and also moves toward the trough. The hunters wait for him as he drinks his fill. Finally, the three of them amble out into the snow.

“Merry Christmas guys,” I whisper. Smiling, I close the big door and stride for home. Doesn’t matter what’s under the tree. I’ve just gotten the only gift I was wishing for!