Again, early this morning, I retreated to the stables. Slipped in, unquestioned. Watched. Suddenly: a panic. A three-year-old stallion—this three-year-old stallion—wanting out. With his back hooves, he kicked away at his slatted stall, unhinging the wood, pacing, splintering again. He reared and he whinnied, and up and down the stables, the geldings, the mares, the one-year-olds answered.
I stood just this side of the stallion with the perfect neck, watching him ache for his freedom.
Later, as I made dinner, my son said, in response to a story I had told him, "Mom, have you considered doing fewer favors?"
I remembered the stallion, kicking the slatted wood down.
1 comments:
When I unwrapped my daily Dove chocolate today, the saying on the inner wrapper reminded me that "No is not a dirty word."
Sometimes, I do say "yes" too often. And then feel like kicking the slats down.
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