Sliver
My thumb and forefinger squeeze the tip of my pointer finger to no avail. The tiny piece of wood that infiltrated my fingertip content to make itself stubbornly at home in the flesh. I sigh, and wring my hands out, shaking the pain away as if the tiny shard will decide to release its grip on me without pressure.
I sigh, a deep sigh, weighted down by the day’s activities. I rub my right hand along the length of the fence post, beckoning to the golden horse beyond, who’s blonde hair flips in the wind, like a runway model. The braids gently crash back to the sides of the horse’s neck, tumbling in waves that make me envious of the fair lock’s length as my own dry and graying hair is shorn close to the scalp. A sacrifice that was once made from grief, but then became a part of the new me, a shadow of the old me.
My lip curves up just a tiny bit as Adonis appears to prance to my side. Still too short to throw my own leg over the horses back, I climb the wooden fence, gently tugging Adonis’s braids in my fist. My finger still throbbing, my right leg swings over the side of Adonis’s back and I toss the rest of my body over with it landing uncomfortably forward on the horse’s neck. I squirm and wiggle until I find my seating in the smooth arch of Adonis’s back.
“Hee-ya!” I shout, confidently, one hand gripping the braids in front of me, my body perched and ready to rock as one with Adonis. My heel kicks the side of the horse, and we fly. Age drifting away from both of us, blurring the lines of youth and wisdom.
I grin now, a full on smile, born of freedom and faith. I bite my lip, tasting blood, as we round a tree so quickly that my leg scrapes the bark. We continue our run, Adonis breathing heavily, but ears perked up and forward as though there is nothing more brilliant than chasing the wind, and I laugh screaming into the wind. Releasing my tight hold on the hair, my body now moving as one with the great beast below me. My arms stretch out to my sides and I am free for the first time today.
As our run slows, I grip the mane tightly as a smooth canter turns into a bumpy and unpredictable trot. Adonis slows to a walk, dragging his hooves over the dusty pasture. I guide Adonis back to the fence – where just a few short minutes ago we began our race.
As I dismount, releasing Adonis to return to his lazy graze, my eyes capture the sight of the small brown structure approximately fifty yards away. A tear wells in my eye, and I automatically reach up to touch the short strands of hair on my head. The ride momentarily forgotten as grief overtakes me.
Still standing on the lower rung of the wooden fence, I let the tears fall for what was, what could have been, and what is. I jump the final way to the ground, and find myself suddenly distracted by the throbbing in my fingertip.
As I began, I grip my pointer finger between my opposing thumb and forefinger and squeeze. Harder this time, until the tears stop, and I feel the sliver slip out of my fingertip. I blow the tiny shard into the wind and take another deep breath. My hand slides along the wooden fence.
I say my silent goodbyes to the grief, and walk slowly, taking the fifty yards at a casual pace, until I stand in front of the brown house of my youth.
The door beckons me forward with a welcome sign, and I enter knowing that I am alone.
