Two Mothers
Warmth inside a stall on a cold winter’s night, the velvet touch of a muzzle on an outstretched hand, a giant beast and I alone together too late for girl or mare to still be awake. And yet, there we find ourselves, two shivering souls, our foggy breath swirling around us both. I pull my pink coat around me more tightly and push up against the horse for the heat she provides. I have one coin left in the pocket of my britches, one more to use to call her again, that other mother, to find out if she’s coming for me. It is late, too late to be left. I leave the coin alone, too afraid to use it yet because what will happen if she still isn’t coming? What will happen if I am left there by myself forever? I will die, probably, die without the care a human mother might provide. But she is lost, more lost than I am, her mind a swirling mess of cobwebs, college days long since forgotten, a young life completely erased, for who could remember it all with a broken mind? And whose broken mind could remember where she put her keys? A neighbor comes, and I am saved. I duck my head beneath the mare’s warm, fuzzy neck and slip out of the stall, sliding the door closed behind me. The friend is kind. But I am not at all interested in what she has to say about my mentally ill mother. Everybody knows, I guess. I’ve been frightened again, but this experience will only broaden my strength, will only give me a sense of control when I feel like giving up. When I feel it’s too hard to try. When I feel useless. I will know that I can handle anything. Anything. And when I finally do take on the world, I’ll hit the ground running. Running right out of here.