Let me call Pat and ask, please, it's on the way home.
Well, it's cold, it's muddy, it's...many reasons run through my head about why I don't want to take 20 minutes out of my day to stop at the barn. Mom, please? I need to talk to her. You have your cats to tell things to he is right, I whisper into various fur bellies my secrets, my fears, my plans for escape I just have Minne, and I don't see her as much as I need to. Please?
There is a catch in in voice that I can't ignore, for I know it too well. This is important to you, huh? You need to tell her about school? About what's going on at home?
Yeah.
I park the car and watch him walk into the barn and out the side door to the pasture, the horses prick their ears at the sound of the gate. Minne lifts her head and sees her boy, leaving the rest of the horses behind, she walks towards my son. I am peering over the steering wheel, watching Evan walk closer, at the point where boy and horse meet, my sight is obstructed by a snowbank...I think about moving my car so I can see them both with a clear view, yet I stay still. If I move I will be invading his privacy, for this conversation is his, not mine. And then my tears begin to fall.
Can I go to the barn and see Minne?
Oh, Evan, really, today?
Let me call Pat and ask, please, it's on the way home.
Well, it's cold, it's muddy, it's...many reasons run through my head about why I don't want to take 20 minutes out of my day to stop at the barn.
Mom, please? I need to talk to her. You have your cats to tell things to he is right, I whisper into various fur bellies my secrets, my fears, my plans for escape I just have Minne, and I don't see her as much as I need to. Please?
There is a catch in in voice that I can't ignore, for I know it too well.
This is important to you, huh? You need to tell her about school? About what's going on at home?
Yeah.
I park the car and watch him walk into the barn and out the side door to the pasture, the horses prick their ears at the sound of the gate. Minne lifts her head and sees her boy, leaving the rest of the horses behind, she walks towards my son. I am peering over the steering wheel, watching Evan walk closer, at the point where boy and horse meet, my sight is obstructed by a snowbank...I think about moving my car so I can see them both with a clear view, yet I stay still. If I move I will be invading his privacy, for this conversation is his, not mine. And then my tears begin to fall.