It all started
with a sassy bay pony. A beautiful little pony, but the kind of beauty you have
to know to see. She is too thin, her
legs too long. She is too little to be useful, they tell me. She is too fast to
fit the definition of the perfect little hunter pony everyone wants. She is
used up and thrown out. Maybe that’s why I like her so much, because I relate
to her. The less than perfectness, the unwantedness, the rough edges, maybe
that’s why I love her.
Her eyes though,
they go further than that outer shell. They still have that fire, and that
cannot be snuffed out by some brats who don’t want her. I want her. Even though
the dreams I’ve been taught to have may not have her in the picture, I want her.
I need her. I couldn’t stand if she sells to another brat who uses her up and
then sells her on. Maybe that’s how this world is supposed to work, but in this
pony I see hope that I haven’t seen in a long time. And I know why she is like
this.
The constant
goodbyes. The falling in love, and
almost feeling safe, almost being happy, then the goodbye. We are not the
spoiled, we do not control this. Goodbye has become just about inevitable when
it comes to falling in love. And it makes giving up that much easier. You can fall so hard, love them so so so
much, but you have no control when it comes to their departure. And no matter
how many tears you shed, and how many nights you cry yourself to sleep and
wonder why it is even worth it anymore, those won’t bring them back. This world
is cruel, and that is just how it goes.
But this pony, this
pony is different. Even though the inevitable goodbye may be looming in the
future, I can’t protect myself. No matter how much I will myself not to care,
how much I tell myself not to fall. I’ve learned that, over the years. You can
pretend not to love something, bubble wrap yourself from the pain you get from
the goodbye. You can tell yourself countless times that it is “just another
horse”. But the pain is still there, it is just masked under a pile of lies.
But not this pony.
People come and try
her out. They see whether she is the pony they want. She almost never is. For
that I am thankful. Even it prolongs the time I get to spend with her by a
couple of months, that time is worth it. But someday someone will come, as they
always do, and they will buy her. I will not know this person. I won’t know if
they will give her candy hearts, I don’t know if they will carefully groom her,
I don’t know if they will hug her tight and promise to never forget her as long
as they live. I don’t know if they will have soft hands, or what they will do
with her, or if they will ever sell her. But one thing I know for sure is that
they could never possibly love her as much as I do.
But that day will
come, like it always does for kids like me.
I am not the lucky one, who’s parents will surprise me with a pony on my
birthday. I will not get a ribbon around her neck one morning saying she’s
mine. Instead, some other kid will load her onto their trailer and take her
home. That’s all. I probably won’t get to visit, and even they let me, I
probably won’t. I couldn’t, really. I wouldn’t want to see the perfectly
imperfect pony who I love with all my heart in someone else’s barn. With some
other kid, who may pretend to love her but I know that they could never love
her so much as I do. That’s just the way it works though.
I will go home and
cry into my pillow and wonder why I even do this anymore. And other ponies will
come, yes, but they will never be the same. Instead, I will just cry and pray
silently that that beautiful, beautiful, sassy bay pony mare would come back.
But she won’t. They never do. No miracles will happen, they never do. I’ll
always wonder what happened to her, where she is now. And no matter what great
scenario I am assured she went to, I will never know. And she will never be
replaced to me. Instead, that loss just adds to the others that make me the
broken person I am. Maybe I should learn not to love so strongly. I don’t feel
very often, but when I do, I feel strongly and love with all my existence. I
wonder why I still do it, but I guess even the short time I get to spend with
these amazing creatures, these perfect horses, is still worth it.
