He showed me the light

 

He showed me the light...

 

 

This is a true story, it really happened.  What I can’t understand, is why did it have to happen to me.  Yeah, to me, Jennifer Smith.  He was always there when I needed him the most.  I can remember it from the first time I touched him.  His fiery coat liberally streaked with mud before you got out the brushes, the deep brown eyes that could see straight into your soul. 

 

It was a hard time for me when I met him, having just moved to France, unable to speak the language, and marked down as the ‘mentally challenged’ person in the class.  My only escape from that world was the stables.

 

The day that my teacher told me to get the chunky chestnut gelding, my reaction was the same as most of the riders.  “Oh no not him!”.  He was the slow coach, the snail of the entire block.  I thought it was dread that filled me as I unhooked his halter from the tack room and walked  down to the paddocks.  I unlatched the gate and he walked over to me, still munching on a few strands of grass.  I looked at him, and he looked at me.  Bright blue eyes meeting the deep brown ones.  It was like he could see straight through the pretence I had learnt to build up around me.  I slipped the halter over his nose and lead him out.  He followed me, right beside me.  I didn’t think as I put one hand on his neck, twisting my fingers into his reddish mane.  He snorted gently and as he looked at me, he seemed to smile.  I smiled back at him, and it seemed to click between us. 

 

He stood perfectly still as I groomed him, held his hooves up for me.  He opened his mouth to accept the bit and didn’t move an inch as I mounted onto his back.  He held his head high as we walked along with the other riders of my group.  As we began to work in the ring, he did everything as if it was way too easy for him.  He dropped his head until his face was vertical, and he kinked his tail behind him, and it streamed out behind him like a banner as we trotted round.  He struck off a perfect canter as soon as I asked him to.  The other girls watched me with their mouths hanging open, amazed at what he was capable of.

 

As I walked him back to the paddock, he stopped and looked at me again.  I cocked my head, and he swung his head round to look at his back, and then back to me. 

“Are you sure?” I asked him softly.  He snorted and tossed his head.  With a smile, I gently vaulted onto his back, not bothered by the lack of a saddle and he strode off, back to his paddock.  I dismounted at the gate and slipped off the halter.  I gave him a gentle kiss on the nose, and he nudged me back softly.  I smiled, closing the gate and walking away.

 

The next week, I got to the stables to find that one of the other girls had taken him.  My heart sank slightly as I went to collect Apache’s halter.  The paint gelding was a nice horse and obeyed your every wish, but he seemed flat after the willingness that the chestnut gelding had shown.  I sighed as I ran a brush over Apache’s coat, watching him with the other girl.  He had his ears back slightly, and as I looked at him, he turned his head to look at me.  He nickered ever so slightly, as if he was calling me.  I turned my back, grooming Apache once more.

 

When we were mounted, and waiting for each other to do their individual rounds of canter.  The chestnut gelding walked forwards, and broke into a small trot.  The rider gave him a whack with her crop and he extended his stride, but his ears were pinned back.  She pushed him into a forced canter and kept a tight grip on the reins.  My mouth ached as I watched, and he looked at me, as if he wanted me to help.  I felt helpless as I sat, perched on Apache, unable to go to his aid.

 

The next week, I was glad to see my name next to his.  I ran to get him, and he trotted over to the gate with a small nicker of welcome.  I grinned as I put his halter on and lead him to the tethering post.   He worked beautifully for me again, and the smile never left my face that day.

 

A few months later, everything seemed to go downhill for me, and he was the one who was there to pick up the pieces again.  I spent hours at the stables, even when I wasn’t due to ride.  I’d stand with him and tell him everything.  He would stand with me, listening to everything, and then give me a small nudge, his eyes saying: Everything will turn out ok.  Often, I would cry into his mane.  He would push me into his neck and then put his head over my shoulder, as if he was hugging me.  Whenever he was there, it was like I knew that everything would be ok. 

 

It went on for months.  I rode him nearly every week, and he would wait for me every time.  He listened, he almost seemed to cry sometimes...  I loved him with all my heart, and he seemed to love me back.  It went on for three years.  Three years until my world collapsed around me.

 

I remember the two days so clearly.  The first day, my teacher gathered the students of my group together and said: “The stables will be closing at the end of the year.  All the horses are being sold.” 

 

The second day, the 22 of December, I watched him go.  I watched my Djebel walk up the ramp into a horse trailer.  As I watched him, rain started to fall, and I felt a tear crawl down my cheek.  Just before the ramp was lifted and bolted into place, he turned his head and looked at me.  He neighed loudly, and it hurt me inside.  It was full of sorrow and of loss.  He neighed again as the trailer left the yard, longer than before and it held so much pain.  It felt like a part of me had gone with him, like my soul had been ripped in two.  I held his halter in one hand, feeling the rough, worn fabric.  I turned away once the trailer had vanished from sight, and my feet took me along the well trodden path to his field.  I sat under our favourite tree, the one he always tried to hide behind, but his white socks gave him away.  I leant against the trunk, and sniffed the halter.  It smelt of him, and I burst into tears. 

 

I have never forgotten him, and have never forgotten that day.  Sometimes, I still cry myself to sleep.  I can still hear that neigh, echoing in my head.  There’s still a dull ache in my heart, and no one, human or horse, has ever managed to fill the gap he has left behind.  His halter still hangs by my bed, and every night, I touch it, and think of him, about how he helped me.  In my mind, he still nickers to me, and I see him trotting towards the gate, his usual strands of hay or grass hanging out of his mouth as his eyes laughing...  He will live forever in my memory.

Reviews

[Astrid Hamilton]

This is very touching, only this line:
Everything will turn out ok. Often, I would cry into his mane. He would push me into his neck and then put his head over my shoulder, as if he was hugging me. Whenever he was there, it was like I knew that everything would be ok.
seems to be the pretense only for heartache, demise; losing someone, something you love so much, so then in the end, everything does not turn out okay.
I like the way you give the horse human-like emotions; as if he connects with you in such a deep way that would not be understood by anyone except the two of you. I like his soft neigh; communication to you; the preference of you, guiding him, and him you; it's as if you actually need each other, not just want each other.
Interestingly, you make such fun by saying that his 'white socks gave him away' as he was (always) trying to hide behind your tree- that is a very powerful relation in the story that seems almost a secret kept only to you and Apache, and something the reader (not even I, but I must say it to point it out for its existence; I apologize if I'm incorrect in assuming;) is not supposed to place upon; the heart of the story, the deep connection, and why does he hide behind the tree? He fears getting close because he knows the pretense- the demise- the breaking apart? He hides his beautiful chestnut, or sepia eyes, but why? And why when he looks at you and only you, does he feel such deep connection, such strong love? There is not supposed to be a breaking apart- his white socks are of course, the white part of his hoof- the natural fibers of hair grown there- you take us to the age of the narrator- perhaps a little girl, correlating that part of the hoof as 'socks', thinking that Apache is hiding, when really, maybe he's not. =)
I love this story. If you only knew how much. I mean it.
It is very, very pretty; everything about it; the softness in the words, which move like a breeze through that tree, and there he is, always awaiting you on the other side, behind its leaves, he's there, as you are too.
I hope, (since this is a TRUE story, and it may be written in your wisdom as a woman looking back on this great even in your life and life-long memory, that you were perhaps connected with him since you were a little girl- he's still there, near that tree, maybe you will be connected again someday.) I hope.

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Hi Shadow,
First off, I have to disagree with the previous comment made by Astrid Hamilton, though I can understand how he/she has looked at it. I may see it differently, but I think that Djebel's comforting and reassuring you shows how good a friend that he is. It would be like a father giving his daughter reassurance, as if he were to say 'it doesn't matter where you are, or even if we're together. Everything will be okay.' You know? This line, to me, shows that Djebel is letting you know how strong he thinks you are, and in that light, he is showing himself to be a much stronger friend, someone who believes in you regardless of what happens in your life.

The only issue with that line is that ok should be written out as okay. And also, the part where you describe your first ride with Djebel and you wrote, "As we began to work in the ring, he did everything as if it was way too easy for him." This is too conversational. This line reads more as if you are talking instead of writing description. That may be what you intended, but I have always been taught that writing as if you were talking in everyday, contemporary conversation takes away from your writing voice. I hope that makes sense. You may want to say something like, "As we began to work in the ring, he did everything as if it required little effort on his part," or something like that. I'm sure you could come up with something more appealing than that, your way with description is terrific.

Have you ever read "Easy in the Saddle," by Gerry Spence? This is similar to his story, and you seem to share the same grace with description as he does. If you would like a good read, I would recommend that story to you.

What I like the most about this story is the deep connection that you convey between Djebel and yourself. It's an intimacy that few share with other human beings, and that's what I like - the fact that you can show these feelings and emotions and show them to be for an animal. Sometimes animals do make better companions than other human beings, and I think you have captured that deep companionship very well. The ending is sad, but at the same time, it's not because you carry his memory with you, and perhaps that has given you a certain strength that will aid you as your life goes on. This is a fantastic story. Good work!