Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Kenzie, my dear do you know anything about horses ?"
I'm currently sitting with Polly at her dinning room table as she is preparing what seems to be sandwiches.
"I do actually, my uncle owned a stable and when I was younger I would always go over to sneak in a ride before going to class. My uncle own a beautiful white mare that I ingeniously named snowflake." Polly laughed. "I would ride her for hours before my parents would come searching for me. I had to be dragged home to eat dinner."
I always felt a special connection with horses. It may sound strange but they give me a sense of comfort. You can tell how one is feeling just by looking in its eyes. Their beautiful creatures. Just wanting to be free.
"Well do you still ride her?"
"No." My eyes cast down. "She had to be put down. Broke one her legs one day when she got scared during a thunderstorm." I answered solemnly.
"I apologize I can see how much you cared for her" Her soft hand rubbed my knee.
I gave her a ghost of a smile as I sipped on my tea.
"I can't believe it." I look at the doorway to see Micheal enter in a dashing gray suit.
"All John's old things fit me." He has such a large smile on his face. A look of belonging. I send him a small smile that he returns which causes heat to creep up my neck.
"Christ you look like your father."
There's something in Polly's eyes as she says it. He makes his way over to the table and sits to the left of me. "Shrimp and Ham." Polly gestures to the food being prepared on the table. I see Michael debating with himself for a moment.
"What was he like, dad, how did he die?" His curiosity spills out. I couldn't blame him. He's entered into a whole new world now. A whole new life.
Polly looks up at him. "Well I won't lie to you." I catch her eyes briefly.
"He died drunk, squeezed between a boat and a log." She lets out a sigh. "The old river gypsies death." Surprisingly though she carried on.
"But he could sing, play the piano, his smile break ya heart." She glances at Michael as she began wrapping the food. "You've got his same beautiful eyes."
Now that was something I noticed as well. He eyes were a beautiful pool of blue. Not as piercing as Tommy's though, much calmer. But we all know Tommy's eyes hold much that a person would never want to see. Michael's hold a sort of innocence I haven't seen.
"When he was sober he was kind and gentle." Polly sat down again.
"His problem was, he fell into the wrong crowd when he was a boy." I felt like a I was intruding on such a intimate conversation so I kept my eyes down as I fiddled with my sleeve.
