Cocoa
I miss my pony.
Oh, God, I miss my pony so much sometimes it hurts to breathe.
Most of the time, it's not too bad. I can ignore the dull ache in my chest where his thick white mane and chocolate brown patches used to reside. I can move through my life with the comfort of Emerald leaning his long thin body against my back, wrapping his graceful neck around me to lay his sleek head on my shoulder. It's enough, most of the time. He does his best, loving me unconditionally, listening to me when I call to him, rushing to my side when I need him near me.
He's no Cocoa.
Emerald is impatient. He shuffles from side to side when he wants me to move faster. He becomes angry when I pay too much attention to other animals. He causes trouble when he thinks I'm not looking. When I need to hold onto him to keep from falling off the deep end, he just doesn't seem to understand.
Cocoa was stable. He knew. When I pulled into the driveway at the farm nearly in tears I could look towards the barn and see Cocoa standing in the front pony pasture, as if he knew I would be coming. He stood still as I clung to him, for as long as I needed him to stand. He held me up when I was falling apart emotionally.
I could make it through anything, because Cocoa's heavy mane would dry any tears that fell. When I couldn't breathe, his woodsy scent filled me. He was pure pony, and I can't imagine how many other emotional teenagers he stood by in his life. When I needed him, I couldn't believe he ever walked up and nudged another girl crying on the muddy ground with his velvet-soft nose.
There are days when I don't know if I want to scream or sob or just fall asleep, and on those days- on these days- I miss Cocoa the most. Driving to the farm- the long way, through East Haddam, past the Haddam Neck Fairgrounds- has become habit after all this time. Take the long way to calm down. Pull in, eyes toward the barnyard. Try not to let the tears fall when it hits- again- that he's gone. Spike tries, but he's too small. Truffles is too antsy. Casper is just too dumb. Nestle tries her best, but it's not in a mare to really care.
Emerald stood still today. When I buried my face in his deep, wooly neck, he stood still. He let me wrap my arms around him tighter than I know was comfortable. He let me hold on when I felt as if I was falling off the deep end. He stood still, and laid his velvet-soft muzzle atop my head till I was done.
He's no Cocoa, but he loves me, and he's trying. It'll have to do, I suppose. I know I love him for it, but I miss my pony so much.
Oh, God, I miss my pony so much sometimes it hurts to breathe.
Most of the time, it's not too bad. I can ignore the dull ache in my chest where his thick white mane and chocolate brown patches used to reside. I can move through my life with the comfort of Emerald leaning his long thin body against my back, wrapping his graceful neck around me to lay his sleek head on my shoulder. It's enough, most of the time. He does his best, loving me unconditionally, listening to me when I call to him, rushing to my side when I need him near me.
He's no Cocoa.
Emerald is impatient. He shuffles from side to side when he wants me to move faster. He becomes angry when I pay too much attention to other animals. He causes trouble when he thinks I'm not looking. When I need to hold onto him to keep from falling off the deep end, he just doesn't seem to understand.
Cocoa was stable. He knew. When I pulled into the driveway at the farm nearly in tears I could look towards the barn and see Cocoa standing in the front pony pasture, as if he knew I would be coming. He stood still as I clung to him, for as long as I needed him to stand. He held me up when I was falling apart emotionally.
I could make it through anything, because Cocoa's heavy mane would dry any tears that fell. When I couldn't breathe, his woodsy scent filled me. He was pure pony, and I can't imagine how many other emotional teenagers he stood by in his life. When I needed him, I couldn't believe he ever walked up and nudged another girl crying on the muddy ground with his velvet-soft nose.
There are days when I don't know if I want to scream or sob or just fall asleep, and on those days- on these days- I miss Cocoa the most. Driving to the farm- the long way, through East Haddam, past the Haddam Neck Fairgrounds- has become habit after all this time. Take the long way to calm down. Pull in, eyes toward the barnyard. Try not to let the tears fall when it hits- again- that he's gone. Spike tries, but he's too small. Truffles is too antsy. Casper is just too dumb. Nestle tries her best, but it's not in a mare to really care.
Emerald stood still today. When I buried my face in his deep, wooly neck, he stood still. He let me wrap my arms around him tighter than I know was comfortable. He let me hold on when I felt as if I was falling off the deep end. He stood still, and laid his velvet-soft muzzle atop my head till I was done.
He's no Cocoa, but he loves me, and he's trying. It'll have to do, I suppose. I know I love him for it, but I miss my pony so much.