To Dance, to Dream

As I was seated on the couch in my hotel room this evening, movement on the terrace below caught my eye. It was a young girl. She was cradling something in her arms and dancing slowly across the tiles.

A model horse!

 Obviously she is a BreyerFest participant with what is probably a new acquisition or else a beloved old favorite. She glided dreamily around, lifting the model horse up, then gathering it to herself for a hug, while swirling around the terrace.

When she gave her pony a kiss on the nose, I felt a kinship and tenderness toward this girl whom I have never met. I, too, know how much you can love a model horse, and how that plastic pony is sometimes a substitute for the real thing, perhaps the closest to owning a horse that girl will ever get.

And I smiled.