When I am old… I shall spend my social security on white wine and carrots. And sit in the alley of my barn and listen to my horses breathe. I will sneak out in the middle of a summer’s night and ride my horse across the moonstruck meadow if my old bones will allow. And when people come to call I will smile and nod as I walk them past the gardens to the yard. And show, instead, the beauty growing here in stalls fresh-lined with shavings. I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair as it if were a jewel. And I will be an embarrassment to all who look down on me, who have not yet found the peace in being free to love a horse as a friend. A friend who waits at midnight hour with muzzle and nicker and patient eyes for the kind of woman I will be when I am old.
Author unknown
