Red Horse Day

I didn't grow up around horses. The only ones in my hometown were giant Clydesdales that pulled tourists around in a big red cart all summer, dropping their shit in the streets and holding up traffic on the one main road. I didn't like those horses much.

The one today was different. My partner and I found her when we topped Blooming Hill on our bikes. The moon was copper-colored, rising into the dusky blue sky over the vineyards and farm houses. Forest Grove looked different from atop the hill, more like the well-groomed country town that so many people want it to be.

It felt good to escape from finals week, even if just for an hour or two. It had been a rough Monday, with meetings and last-minute projects piling up, and the general specter of finals hanging over the campus. One more week, I kept thinking today, and then we can get our lives back...

The horse was special. She was red like a red velvet cake, and just as sweet. When I reached through the gate and stroked her soft red shoulder, she didn't shy away. Her eye was enormous, with long copper-colored lashes. She felt real under my hands, more alive than anything I had encountered today. She was different than the flat pieces of white paper that I spent so much time writing, printing, shuffling, and losing. Her ribs moved when she breathed, her jaw worked the grass in her mouth, yellow teeth sliding against her lips. She was beautiful.

We said goodbye and road home in the gathering dark, with headlamps tied around our necks to light the way. I thought about the students who were locked away in the university library tonight, falling asleep on their chemistry textbooks and biology notes.

It's hard to get excited about flat, white paper. We could use more red horses and moon-lit bike rides in this place called "university".

Especially during finals week.