When I started to scratch the old grey horse, I realised I needed to slow down and rest.
She manoeuvred herself so that the itchiest part was nearest to my “scratching hand”.
I stood and scratched her back for a time, listening to the cows’ cry for their babies, taken away from them during this current calving season.
The horse is old and stiff, when she walks. Her joints creak sometimes and she can’t run up and down the hills.
I asked her in my mind, if she would tell me when she was tired and ready to leave this world.
I started to cry and said that I would try to let her go when the time was right, and not keep her here, just because I would miss her more that I could bear.
I waited for an answer, tears staining my face.
She said to my mind, after a time, “I just want you to scratch me”.