Kimberly Carter: Your narrative here is poetic and symbolic of much and of the whole:
"Laci has spent an hour with the horse, slowly learning the rhythm of his footsteps, noticing the things he notices, taking deep breaths together, settling in, and leaning into trust.
My heartbeat slows as I stand with them.
“I think I love him already, but someone told me that’s a bad idea because he might end up leaving,” Laci says.
“I already love him a little too,” I say.
“We shouldn’t. We’ll be sad if he leaves.”
I watch Laci’s hand where it’s pressed against the new horse’s neck.
“I’d rather love him as long as he’s with us. If he stays, he stays.”
“I love him,” Laci says.
“What can it hurt? If we act like we love him, he might adapt to being here better. And if I say I don’t love him, I’ll still be sad if he doesn’t work out,” I say.
“So, it’s okay to love him?”
“It’s okay to love him. It will be our little secret.”
I appreciate this so very much! Thank you for reading and letting me know your thoughts, Armand. It's a crazy world we've constructed where cynicism trumps the risk of caring. The way you do your part to draw our eyes back to hope is the truest work there is.
Your internal and external musing, mixing the past and present, back and forth, weaving them together in this vibrant, powerful tapestry. Your writing draws me in, like the horse’s eye. And I love the comment about anxiety. Thanks, for the depth and rawness…
Thank you for permission to love 🖤 I love you
Thank you for always showing me the things that matter. I love you! 💕
Kimberly Carter: Your narrative here is poetic and symbolic of much and of the whole:
"Laci has spent an hour with the horse, slowly learning the rhythm of his footsteps, noticing the things he notices, taking deep breaths together, settling in, and leaning into trust.
My heartbeat slows as I stand with them.
“I think I love him already, but someone told me that’s a bad idea because he might end up leaving,” Laci says.
“I already love him a little too,” I say.
“We shouldn’t. We’ll be sad if he leaves.”
I watch Laci’s hand where it’s pressed against the new horse’s neck.
“I’d rather love him as long as he’s with us. If he stays, he stays.”
“I love him,” Laci says.
“What can it hurt? If we act like we love him, he might adapt to being here better. And if I say I don’t love him, I’ll still be sad if he doesn’t work out,” I say.
“So, it’s okay to love him?”
“It’s okay to love him. It will be our little secret.”
I appreciate this so very much! Thank you for reading and letting me know your thoughts, Armand. It's a crazy world we've constructed where cynicism trumps the risk of caring. The way you do your part to draw our eyes back to hope is the truest work there is.
Your internal and external musing, mixing the past and present, back and forth, weaving them together in this vibrant, powerful tapestry. Your writing draws me in, like the horse’s eye. And I love the comment about anxiety. Thanks, for the depth and rawness…