Weekly Anamnesis #10
If you were to stand on the road in front of our farm you would look across a large field where sheep were grazing, a yard where kids were most likely playing, and your gaze would come to rest on our home. To the right was another pasture stretching from the road back a long ways to where the dilapidated wood gate swung lazily at the entrance to the wood. In the middle of the right field was lump. A hill really, and old foundation where a barn or some other structure had once been. It looked like a large dumpling floating on a sea of waving grass. There were trees scattered around the lump and it had become a favorite place to play and battle dragons alongside King Arthur’s Knights of the round table.
At one point my sister, Heidi, owned a horse. The horse however had fallen from grace and was not liked by much of the family, being of an ill temper (my sister may disagree at this point, but I felt it had an ill temper). Having thrown me at a young age, kicked my brother in the head, and thrown my sister (breaking her arm) I was very nervous around the beast. Happily though, my dislike for the horse didn’t deter me from my much loved romps through the fields.
My brother Kimball and I were playing in the field, at what I don’t quite remember. I just remember the hoof beats. My gaze settled on the horse galloping through the pasture, headed as it seemed, right for me. I panicked.
“Kimball it’s gonna get me!”
I am sure if I were an elder brother I would not be able to pass up the marvelous opportunity either, and thus he gave the remedy, “Run! Run as fast as you can so it won’t eat you!”
Panic and desperation fueled my feet as I tore through the field aiming for the lump. I could almost feel the hot air from the horse’s nostrils breathing down my back.
“Faster J, faster!” Kimball cried. I was too busy running away from the man eating horse to notice the mischief in his eyes and the grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he ran along my side.
“Quick, climb a tree so it won’t get you!”
I heartily took his advice and launched myself into the first tree I came too. Being rather young I had not devolved the art of skillfully climbing and could not attain much height.
“Higher J, higher!”
“I can’t get any higher! Will it still eat me?” I bunched myself into a ball, probably looking much like a misshapen apple to the horse, but it decided that giant human apples were not desirable and gradually meandered away.
It was then I saw it, that grin and tomfoolery playing at his face and he burst into laughter. As mirth is the best remedy, I too collapsed into a heap of giggles and the man eating horse became a favorite object of play.