When your sister has cancer, things can get rough. By rough, I mean chaotic.
My pasture is my only place of solitude. I like to get away from the fighting of my siblings, Anna and Markus, the crying of my mother and the once happy and fun father.
So I sit, leaning against the oak tree and watch the Hepplington's horse graze with her foal stuck like glue to her side. The pasture is mine, even if it isn't my family's.
Dr. Doreen Hepplington, Anna's doctor lives next to us and is big into horses. She and her husband have their mare Andie and her foal Acer in the pasture next to our house.
Dr. Hepplington steps outside of her huge three-car garage and notices me. She smiles and I smile weakly back. She gets the message and goes back inside. She knows about my family's conflicts and allows me to sit in the pasture as long as I need.
Acer looks at me. His big brown eyes are wide with curiosity and his ears are pricked forward.
"Hi Acer," I say, smiling for the first time in days.
I see his nostrils quiver with a silent hello. He glances back to Andie, then to me, and decides that his curiosity is too strong. He heads towards me with coutious and slow steps, unsure of what to make of me. This isn't the first time he's seen me, just the first time he's found me interesting.
Finally, he is close enough to touch. I slowly reach out and stroke his muzzle. It is soft like a blanket. The type you'd want to snuggle up in and never leave. But then Acer jumps back, startled and trots fiskily back to Andie. Andie lifts her head and nickers to him.
It is hilarious to watch Acer get frisky. His little foal's tail sticks straight up in the air and his spindly legs reach up to where they are level with his chest. I laugh quietly as he trots a circle around Andie, then returns to his place at her side.
I want to stay here forever.