Wait for me...

I waited for you…and finally, on April 12, 1984, you arrived. It took you forever to get off the ground to nurse and I was worried that you wouldn’t do it soon enough…that you’d get worn out before you figured out the gravity thing, but you finally did. I was beaming over you like I’d birthed you myself and all the neighbors came by horseback or car to welcome you to the world. I watched over you like the most careful nanny. You were the baby I swore I’d always have and raise and keep forever. All the love in the world was around you standing there on your long, wobbly legs. At first you were a little shy, but I rubbed your head and ears and legs and back and spent hours with you day after day. At first, I was just another familiar curiosity and then a quickly recognizable "other mama." My friends sent me cards of congratulations on your arrival and came to see you. I called you "my baby."

You were named "Aslan" for the lion of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.

Lewis’ Aslan is great in size, great in heart. His beautiful eyes carry depth and warm light and when you look inside of them you can only speak truth. His mane is full and golden and those who look upon him are humbled at the sight of such regal power.

It was much for such a small foal, born too with a golden mane, to live up to. And somehow now, these many years later, I pause to consider how that you were able to do that…your simple eloquence, your peaceful comfort with yourself and gentleness with all those around you. I couldn’t possibly have imagined how the 100 pound miracle that I had waited for all my life, watching as you discovered the world, would change me and the gladness that you brought me throughout the paths my life took. There were times when I went long periods without seeing you. But you were unfailingly steady for me. A drive down the black paved road lined with moss-hung oaks. I turn off the pavement onto the gravel road by the pasture. A whistle at the fence and a call from me brought you running and whinnying. You never disappointed me. Not once.

Time passed and then you were two. When I slid over your back the first time, you casually turned your head to look back at me as if to say "what are you doing up there?"

It is January 2005. My mind is straining to send you a message as I fly home to Florida to be near you, "don’t leave beautiful one. Not yet. It’s not time." You lay on a surgery table in a place I’ve never been…"I am coming Aslan." The constant echo of my heart is "stay, stay, stay with me.

Please don’t go." And I realize too what this means: if you leave me, one more light in my life has gone dark. Things that are precious leave, one by one, until there are only the pictures in my mind and an ache that never really goes away. One more passage. One more good thing not here. You recovered and I brought you to be close to me here in the North.

January 2006…you are sick again. Gail is calling me. You are in pain. It is worse. We have to do something…trying, trying to help you. The vet, more x-rays, phone calls, the farrior, massages. What else…what else can we do?

There must be something. There must be. Oh God…there isn’t. There is no way for me to take it away.

It is February 17, 2006. You are standing now. The vet has nerve blocked your feet. You aren’t hurting. You have most of your favorite things right there in front of you: peppermints, sweet feed, apples…people you know and trust. And I am there too. All the love in the world is right there again.

It’s all around you. I rub your neck and kiss your nose and thank you for being such a fine wonderful gentleman and for all you gave me. Gail holds my shoulders and walks me away, around the corner. I do not want you to see me crying. This sad place in time is indeed, the one last thing I could do to help you. Sweet one. Celebrated one. Light of my life. A part of me is going with you.

But you will never really leave me beautiful sweet boy. You will always live in my heart and in my mind…and that’s where I’ll always look for you, there, in that shimmering place in memory: off the black pavement, down the gravel road to the pasture where you will come running and whinnying as I step out of my car door and call your name.

I thank you from the depths of my soul…my baby, my angel, my Aslan. Wait for me. I’ll be home soon.

Valerie