My Wild Horses
I am looking for wild horses. They should be right there, just across the way.
The water is calm and steely gray with dashes of deep blue as the sun rises over the town of Beaufort, North Carolina. I am told that a pack of wild horses comes down to the water early in the morning, do their wild horse thing somewhere inland during the day, then return to the sandy edge of the bay for a sundowner slurp.
My eyes strain to catch a flash of a tail, a long muzzle parting the shrubs.
I am looking for wild horses. All day. Other people have seen them, I am told they exist.
The water is full of sailboats and kayakers and kids and dogs in bright yellow lifejackets and instead of appreciating the scene before me, I am wishing for wild horses to somehow make it better. To inspire me. To be the magic I feel I am lacking.
Dusk has nearly dissipated into darkness and the wild horses haven't appeared yet.
I let my eyes blur that distant shoreline into muted greens and sandy beiges flowing into that steely gray blue liquid and I focus on what is in front of me right now: the sunset bleeding reds and oranges into the still water, a gaggle of little boys giggling about a dog on a scooter, the blushing moon ascending over the four shop-lined blocks of this town, the soft vibrato of a guitar strumming singer echoing off the sportfishing boats from the deck of a waterfront bar, tanned sailboaters sitting in lawn chairs on the fingerpiers sipping cheap beer and smiling.
I forget about the wild horses for the time being and stop looking out the window, holding my breath and squinting. I am here, now, soaking in the soft southern evening knowing that in this moment there are too many other beautiful things to experience to be consumed with my search for wild horses. They will either show up or they won't, but staring out to a distant spit of land eyes unfocused and tired with strain will not make them appear any faster or even at all.
I still know (believe) they are there though and I am pretty sure that when I least expect them to whinny up a storm on that distant beach in a wild horse frenzy I'll see them and it will just be another moment, in the moment, of contented amazement.
The water is calm and steely gray with dashes of deep blue as the sun rises over the town of Beaufort, North Carolina. I am told that a pack of wild horses comes down to the water early in the morning, do their wild horse thing somewhere inland during the day, then return to the sandy edge of the bay for a sundowner slurp.
My eyes strain to catch a flash of a tail, a long muzzle parting the shrubs.
I am looking for wild horses. All day. Other people have seen them, I am told they exist.
The water is full of sailboats and kayakers and kids and dogs in bright yellow lifejackets and instead of appreciating the scene before me, I am wishing for wild horses to somehow make it better. To inspire me. To be the magic I feel I am lacking.
Dusk has nearly dissipated into darkness and the wild horses haven't appeared yet.
I let my eyes blur that distant shoreline into muted greens and sandy beiges flowing into that steely gray blue liquid and I focus on what is in front of me right now: the sunset bleeding reds and oranges into the still water, a gaggle of little boys giggling about a dog on a scooter, the blushing moon ascending over the four shop-lined blocks of this town, the soft vibrato of a guitar strumming singer echoing off the sportfishing boats from the deck of a waterfront bar, tanned sailboaters sitting in lawn chairs on the fingerpiers sipping cheap beer and smiling.
I forget about the wild horses for the time being and stop looking out the window, holding my breath and squinting. I am here, now, soaking in the soft southern evening knowing that in this moment there are too many other beautiful things to experience to be consumed with my search for wild horses. They will either show up or they won't, but staring out to a distant spit of land eyes unfocused and tired with strain will not make them appear any faster or even at all.
I still know (believe) they are there though and I am pretty sure that when I least expect them to whinny up a storm on that distant beach in a wild horse frenzy I'll see them and it will just be another moment, in the moment, of contented amazement.
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