From the moment we brought this horse into the sanctuary, Livy has been in love. She’s watched over her on the security monitor when I wouldn’t allow her in the barn. And when she was finally allowed inside, she still wasn’t allowed anywhere near the mare’s stall.
We have no idea what kind of abuse this poor animal has been through.
And since her previous owners had children, I didn’t want to risk triggering her by letting Olivia get too close.
A scared horse is an unpredictable one.
And that could end with someone getting hurt.
“I think she already does,” I say as the timid mare slowly makes her way toward the fence, stopping just on the other side of the rails.
She lowers her head, ears flicking, and stretches her nose out to sniff the air between us.
Livy goes still beside me.
The mare huffs softly, then lifts her head, watching us for a long moment before turning and walking off across the pasture.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Livy says, her head dropping. “She walked away.”
“She did,” I agree gently. “But she didn’t run away in fear, and she didn’t kick out in anger. That’s progress, honey.”
“I suppose so,” she sighs. “I just wish she knew how much I loved her. I wish they all did.”
The horses locked in their stalls flash through my mind. Some nearly broken beyond repair, some withdrawn and sad, others outright angry.
All for good reasons.
“Me too, honey,” I say softly. “But the best thing we can do is to love them so fiercely that one day the scary things they went through won’t hold them back anymore.”
“Do you think that’s possible?” she asks. “For them to forget all the bad stuff?”
“Maybe notforget,” I say. “But move past it. Learn to trust again.”
I glance out over the pasture.
“Think about all the horses that have come through here and found new homes. They didn’t leave until they were healthy and happy, remember? We just have to believe we can love these new ones the same way… so maybe one day, they’ll find their forever homes too.”
“Can I name this one, Mama?” she asks softly.
“Sure, honey.”
She looks at the mare for a long moment, like she’s thinking really hard.
“Then her name’s… Hope.”
“Why Hope?” I ask.
“Because,” she says, taking a deep breath, “when she first got here, she was so sad and scared. But just now, when she looked at us… I could see her eyes.”
She pauses, thinking.
“The sadness isn’t there anymore. There’s still a little fear… but there’s a whole lot of hope.”
My chest tightens.
“And I want her to know it’s okay to be scared,” she continues softly, “as long as she has hope that everything’s going to be okay.”
She smiles up at me.
