The Mare

Ginger

They must’ve started early; she was already on the horse when I got there. Pat had the horse on a lead, and she was talking to Velvet, making corny jokes, telling her to sit up straight and stick her chest out “like Dolly Parton.” But when Pat led the horse around, and I saw the girl’s face, I could see it didn’t matter; she was in a state of joy. When she saw me and the camera I’d brought, she smiled even bigger.

Pat got her to move the horse forward, backward, then in a wide circle. She got her to trot. She got her to stand up and sit down in time with the horse. Velvet did it all, now and then giving me a movie-star smile so I could take a picture of it.

It felt so good, I completely forgot about my private radio signal, whether it was there or not. That was a metaphor that did not have any meaning in this situation. This situation was something else entirely.