Kind Eyes

Rose in our Front Yard



When my soulmate.  My silver white holsteiner Reanna turned six, I brought her to my trusted French trainer to teach her how to jump.

I was quite proud of my mare. I spent quite a small fortune on her, she was powerful,  intelligent and well bred. Her line was bred for jumping. When, I wrote the check for her though, it wasn't for her abilities or breeding, it was for her spirit.  I fell in love with her the moment she thundered through the arena under a grey storm sky. She was born from the gods.

When I presented her to my discerning riding coach, an astute businessman,  he looked at her, pleased -"your mare, she has kind eyes".

It was the best compliment I could have wished for.

Today. In the post office, as I packaged a few things to ship off for friends on the opposite coast,  I looked up and noticed a woman whose mouth and face were hidden and covered by a surgical mask. Just like me. I couldn't see her face. We couldn't smile at each other. For a moment,  I saw her eyes.

They were kind eyes, smiling back at me.

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