My Mare My Freedom

My mare my freedom.

by Chane' Welgens

New Zealand

As I hop on the dreary, hot, smelly bus, my thoughts stray towards that beautiful mare grazing in the paddocks back home. I patiently wait for my classmates to get seated and pray I can survive the bus ride home with the boys seated at the back, eyes burning into the back of my skull. I pretend I don't notice, just reading a book, but inside I am hurting. Everyone at school seems to think I'm the laugh of every day. I slowly drift off into a deep slumber... I open my eyes, blink, blink. I look out the window just as the bus lurches to a sudden stop. I wait for the bullies to walk to the front of the bus, eager to get out and head home. Then, as they start to pile off I get up and walk some distance behind them. I decide the warm wether makes it the perfect day to begin walking home, knowing my mother will pick me up along the way. I walk... walk... conscious of the way I look and being extremely careful not to get too close to thos horrible boys. As fat old Ben crosses the street, the skew eyed Terry turns down Titi Rd, throwing sticks here and there. I continue to walk further down the road, opening up to the heavenly breeze. Then, as I look down, here comes Dan, ready to pick me up. Disappointment washes over me as I notice him, knowing my mother didn't have time to pick me up, so she sent my older sister's boyfriend to do her the favour. I hop in, say a brief "Hi" and sit silently for the rest of the trip home.

As he turns into the driveway, I look to my far left, to the paddock that contains my only friend, the friend who gives me back my freedom. The car stops, I get out, eager to put the daily chores behind me so that I can greet my friend and fellow companion with a pat and a treat.

Two hours later, my chores are done, my family is satisfied... I head out in my gumboots and an old t shirt.

I lead her out, and mount her bareback, ready to race the wind and defy the odds. She neighs with pleasure, and paws the ground, as eager as me to get going. One pat and a gentle tap with my feet and we're off, we race down the road, past the dairy and onto the rugby field. I dismount, and we play a game of tag.

As the sun leaves us, I mount my noble companion and we take a peaceful walk back home, admiring the scenery along the way.

I feed her, clean her and muck out her stall, taking my time so I can delay doing the dishes.

As the clock strikes 10pm, I take a slow stroll across the paddock and walk into the light and safety of the house, into the noisy atmoshpere, ready to take on the challenge of getting the kitchen cleaned and sorted for the night.

Into the place I call home, where my freedom sits just outside the door munching on hay.

Kay also wrote a essay My horse my freedom.