The old woman peers from her window, her rheumy eyes wide with awe and wonder. Her mind awakens, as if from a dream as she slips into her old robe. Shuffling into worn out slippers, she walks stiff and sore to the stable, where her mare stands, swaybacked and tired … longing for respite.
Weak, but determined, the woman glances upward toward the night skies. Upward at the light that pulls her soul along. The dim light filters in the stable door and with quaking hands, she grasps the stiff, moldy leather bridle from the hook where it has hung for years.
“Come, Beauty. It’s time to go. It’s time to come with me.”
She almost falls–the stall gate is stubborn, like her body. But she remembers well, and carefully bridles the little horse and leads her through the barn out into the light of the silvery moon.
The wooden mounting ramp still remains. The mare remembers … and stands quiet and still as the woman eases onto her soft, warm back. Tears of joy silently flowing, she strokes the silken neck.
“Take me from this place, my beauty. Please take me to the moon.
And Luna winked at sleeping Sun, while she let the girl and filly play.