Still on sparkly, right? Part 4
Sometimes when a situation jams up and feels awkward and miserable, like a pair of hiking shoes that developed lumps and needed replacing two months ago, I remember that notion about fun, and I go, Is this possible to turn around? Look for a small miracle, look for sparkly? Not the hikers, they’re toast, but the situation.
Recently I had three appointments off-island at peculiar times on different days. There was no way I felt I could take an early ferry into Victoria two days in a row. So I booked an AirBnB a twenty-minute drive from the ferry where I could bring Kira. That felt like an unexpected but peaceful solution. When I arrived, I found my room was right off the family’s living room but it was clean, the bed was comfortable, and I had my own entrance and bathroom. The host was welcoming. Outside was a full-size horse and two miniature horses. I was immediately seized with the desire to pat the horses.
When Kira and I came back from a walk in the woods, the white miniature horse was hiding in the stable.and there, by the fence, was the brown miniature horse, Buddy. He was a solid creature, shaggy with winter hair, and wearing a horse blanket. When Kira noticed him, she jumped straight up into the air with all four legs stiff and gave a strangled Moof! Then my brave puppy hid behind me.
Buddy scorned me. He was intent on rubbing his behind on the fence. Topaz, the big horse, wandered over. I patted her face and she jerked her head up. I could feel she wanted something different; my pats weren’t cutting it. She walked off. I texted my sister, who knows about horses, and she suggested I try scratching instead. The next morning, I tried a good scratch on Topaz’s forehead and she was stoked. I was happy. Look at me, making nice with a horse who was pleased to shed all over my hand and coat.
Buddy continued to pretend I didn’t exist.
I gave up on Buttons, the white miniature horse who I could see in the roofed stable area but who chose not to come out in the paddock.
That afternoon, the last of our stay, Kira and I went for a second walk taking advantage of a bit of sun. I needed to calm down after a long and difficult drive in heavy traffic to get to my appointment. I’d obeyed my Siri instructions and I swear, the route got me to turn left at every major intersection in Victoria. At one point I seriously considered pulling over and bursting into tears. I decided that was not an option.
Then there was construction, “Turn left at the stop sign,” Siri would say and the road would be blocked, I couldn’t turn and had to be re-directed. Coming back to the AirBnB, which was actually way out in the country, I managed to find a route that took me one-third the time.
When the dog and I got back from our calming walk, I put her in our room and went out to the paddock, hoping to connect with a horse. Buttons, the white miniature horse was out. Of course she didn’t want to come over for a pat. The host beckoned me into the paddock to show me some maple boards he’d cut, drying inside the stable; I’d told him my husband had been a carpenter. “Your husband would’ve loved this,” he said. I agreed the boards were gorgeous and we chatted about what he was going to do with them. At the back of my mind, I was thinking, whew, I’ve got the worst behind me. Tomorrow I just had one early appointment that was close and then I was home on the afternoon ferry. But I wished I could’ve connected with a miniature horse; they’re goofy-looking creatures and kind of magic.
Wait a minute, what was this being thrust under my arm? A head. I turned and there was Buttons, a benign and hopeful look on her face like she hadn’t been snooting me for two days. Well, we had a blissful scritch and horsey communion. Sometimes it’s the small things that resonate. I had my heart set on wanting to feel close to a mini and I did. This was a gift, a sparkly delight. Miracles can be small. They still count.
Any small nice events in your life, with or without a bearded horse, that you want to share?