THE WEIGHT OF DREAMS, Cole Walter ✓

11| GALLOP ON

AS HER FATHER RELAYED THE EVENTS that had transpired before and on that day, Charis couldn't claim surprise. No ringing in her ears, no lump forming in her throat, and no stomach doing somersaults.

When Austin informed her of the foal's demise due to alfalfa poisoning, Charis simply nodded in acknowledgment before retreating to her bedroom, Austin's futile calls trailing after her. He understood she was hurting, but Charis had inherited her father's ability to mask her emotions.

Austin knocked gently on Charis's bedroom door, not expecting an immediate response but feeling compelled to check in on her. When he received no answer, he cautiously pushed open the door and entered the room. Charis was seated on her bed, gazing out of the window. She turned her head slightly as he entered.

"We can talk about it," Austin offered softly, his cowboy hat still clutched in his hand as he walked over to sit beside her.

"There's nothing to talk about," Charis replied, her voice tinged with resignation. It wasn't so much that there was nothing to discuss; it was more like there was no one to share the conversation with, no one who could make the situation any better. Austin let out a weary sigh.

"Yeah, but we can mourn," he suggested, moving closer to her on the bed.

"We can," Charis acknowledged quietly.

"Allow yourself to mourn," he continued, quoting wisdom from his late wife, her mother.

"...for every second you don't, it just allows the pain to linger longer," Charis finished the quote, her voice catching slightly. She leaned into him, seeking comfort in his presence. Austin pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared loss.

"I'm going to call Marilyn and let her know," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve.

She nodded silently, still enveloped in the comfort of his embrace. As Austin stepped out of the room to make the call, she was left alone with her thoughts once again. The emptiness of the room seemed to echo the void left by their loved one's absence, and she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of their grief.

But amidst the pain, there was a flicker of hope - a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounded them. They had each other, and together, they would find a way to navigate through the storm that lay ahead. With a deep breath, she wiped away her tears and resolved to face the days to come with strength and courage, knowing that they would always have each other to lean on.

She lay atop her gray covers, reaching for the white and green Native American blanket to envelop herself. Turning towards the window, she found solace in the stars, perfectly aligned with the silhouettes of the trees outside. Tears, devoid of any discernible emotion, traced the curve of her cheekbones, descending gently, some resting upon her lips.

As she gazed at the stars, her thoughts wandered to a place they shouldn't have gone.

❝  Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual. ❞

The poem, though unrelated, resonated with the foal's truncated existence, never to experience the full breadth of life. It would never frolic in the meadows, never feel the touch of human hands. Charis contemplated how others might perceive this, and what narratives they would craft. Would the buried remains be unearthed by future generations, long after the Colorado Rangers had faded into obscurity?