When I was temporarily stationed in England on multiple occasions several years ago, I spent a lot of time walking in the evenings and on weekends. I often walked from RAF Menwith Hill Station to the nearby villages of Dacre or Summerbridge.
Invariably I walked past a small fenced enclosure with a black mare. She was a beautiful horse and I always wondered why she was always alone. I never saw another horse with her, and I never saw a person with her.
I imagine that many years earlier a father brought home this horse as a gift for his beloved daughter. And now that daughter has grown up and moved away.
I imagine that the horse is lonely and the father lonelier. I wonder where the young woman ended up. I wonder what stories the young woman could tell about her love for her horse. My hunch: she has moved to London, is very successful, in a big corner office with windows, and dreams of being back in Yorkshire with Blackie.
If I could write, one of my first essays would be about this horse and the girl who rode her.
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