Have you ever noticed the unevenness in a horse’s gait? I wonder what it is that causes it. They have an even number of limbs; one would think the clopping of their hooves would sound even as well, but instead there is a comfortable, syncopated rhythm in their stride.
The hoof falls of this beast, the one driving us this soft night, I will always remember. It is like a song to me, and for us, on this carriage ride – a first for each of us – the song moves us like a waltz.
Our younger child faithfully entertains us, and tonight, he is himself personified. He has that sort of personality – the sort where you need only look at him, and you laugh because his casual grin carries the reminder of a thousand funny statements, and it forecasts thousands more. So it is, as he sits across from us, casual grin beaming beneath twinkling eyes, that you and I glance at one another, and in mutual recognition, we laugh.
Our eldest, he is the sentimental one. Even as we roll along tired pavement, cracked and worn from the extremity of weather and countless tires and boots and hooves, I know his mind records every nuance, and this event will be retold in talks and journals and vibrant, Crayola illustrations. Such a kind, handsome, thoughtful one, he is. Where did he come from, exactly?
And there is you – chill written upon your cheeks, pink and real and energized. You cannot plan for a moment like this one. They simply happen of their own accord, sometimes with our plans, often in spite of them. It is times like these when your beauty is most apparent – in the frigid night, before the backdrop of all Heaven’s Christmas lights, in the abode of the surreal, and the quiet…quiet, but for those hypnotic hoof clops and our children’s endearing laughter.
This is the best moment of my life – not a large moment, not a moment witnessed by many, but we are here together, the four of us, and there is no pretense; there is no striving. And I feel fine. We are here together, and I feel fine.