Through The Window
She was only vaguely aware of her mother standing, watching them through the kitchen window as they left before she was totally enveloped in a world of her own.
There she heard his great hooves strike the ground beneath them as she, with lithe young body, settled into his rhythm, making it her own. Her eyes feasted on the rich red and brown hues of his glossy mahogany coat. Astride his bare back her legs clung to his slightly damp sides and she could feel the warmth and the strength and the breadth of him, as tips of his hair bristled through her jeans lightly tickling the inside of her thighs.
She watched his ears, the network of veins on the backs of them, the right one with it's v-shaped split, as they flicked first forward then back, alternating attention between the way ahead of them and the sound of the young girl's voice as she spoke softly to him. A tender spring breeze toyed with the strands of his coarse, back mane even as it flirted through her own fair, soft hair.
A lone hawk circled high above them
She felt so alive with the sight, the smell and the feel of the animal beneath her and the spring air surrounding them. The morning sun sparkled kindly on them through the waking branches of the giant cottonwood. Tiny chickadees cheered and a great, lone hawk circled high above them against the brilliant blue sky. In rapture, the girl pitched forward flinging her slender, freckled arms about the powerful bowed neck. Life pulsed through them, vital and vibrant and plump with promises.
Acutely aware that childhood was rapidly coming to a close, her mind's eye wandered through the vast array of adventures and misadventures the pair had shared. She wondered to herself if, as she grew older, her memories of her moments with this horse, this treasured friend, would dim.
The woman smiled, turning, she tore her gaze from the now empty blue sky outside her kitchen window as she started toward the sounds of her young son, waking from his nap.
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