Where I Was From

Judy and the Dream of Horses

We must have fallen into a Lisa Frank trapper keeper somewhere along the gravel road that cut across the prairie this evening. Past the dry creek bed and away over the bean field we could see two rainbows, one of them heart shaped. But the real thrill of the evening came at sunset as we passed a broad, empty expanse of grass bordered by a wooden fence.

Each of the three of us cousins hails from multiple big cities, so as we bitched about the cosmopolitan things we miss now that we're here, we weren't prepared to see six horses gallop to the fence to meet us. Their silhouettes stood dark and majestic against the setting sun and our conversation instantly ended as they ran furiously toward us and stopped mere yards away to stare back. A full-body nimbus glowed around the dun-colored one, who continued to return my gaze even after the others had lost interest and returned to grazing.

We turned to head back to the house before nightfall when the countryside would plunge into absolute darkness. I suppose it goes without saying that we had no more complaints to issue about Nebraska.

Labels: memoir, travel

posted by Leah @ 11:55 PM