by T.J. Wolfe

Created on: April 22, 2009   Last Updated: April 29, 2009

"Only the truly blessed are able to see another and understand." T.J. Wolfe

The morning sun shone warmly into the barn. Summer was wandering in from the south chasing away winter. For Matt, wrapped in his fourteen year old frame, the nudges of summer where beyond him.

He barely heard his cowboy boots hit the barn's concrete floor. His thoughts were lost in a decision he made eleven months ago to breed his mare.

A slight breeze drifted through the aisle way catching and ruffling his hair. He could hear the slow, peaceful sounds of horses moving behind stall doors. Matt moved to the third stall and looked in.

There was his little grey mare. Her sides expanded out to the point he wondered how she could stand on her little feet. She was an oversized pop-over stuffed to the brim.

"Hey Blue, how are you doing today?" Matt cooed through the stall door. Blue raised her head and looked at him. It was very close to her time. Today or tomorrow and she would give birth. Matt felt his chest constrict as a sudden wave of grief washed over him.

Blue was his constant companion. On a ranch too far away for friendships, Blue had become his best friend. Blue was also the last remnant of anything he had from his real mother. The grief wasn't just losing Blue. The grief was also losing what was left of that dim recollection of a mother he still longed for.

He turned away from his prize mare and grabbed a wheel barrow and pitchfork. He could start cleaning the stalls. He looked out across the sparse, dusty high desert landscape. The morning lay sleeping under a gentle, amber sun. Time stood still.

The sun rose slightly higher and the breeze quieted down. The persistent buzzing of flies invaded the air.

"Matt", he heard his step mom's voice call from the back porch. "Come in for breakfast."

"Blue is getting ready to deliver, Marilyn," he called back.

His step mom laughed, "That mare isn't going to delivery until its dark, and she thinks everyone is gone. Come in and get some breakfast. You can check on her afterwards."

Matt sighed, put down the pitchfork and started towards the house. He looked in on the mare one last time. Blue hadn't moved and was still watching him as he walked past.

"Why does everyone call a grey horse Blue," Matt silently chastised himself. Blue had been born and raised on the ranch.

Matt had claimed her early on. Or, maybe Blue had claimed him. Out of all the new foals, Blue had made a decision to attach to Matt. Matt's real mom convinced his dad to let him have Blue instead

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