The Pony
Not long ago, I found myself with some time on my hands, a few bucks in my pocket, and worrying about the fast approach of yet one more cold, gloomy winter. So I went to stay with friends in a small village on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. What could be better?
The day I arrived was a warm, no, a hot day in late October; the sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky over the clear blue waves sloshing on the shore. I got happy real fast. Seemed to me that I'd been there before. And with each day that passed, I felt it even more.
It felt too good to be true, and for a time I carried a lurking dread that the bottom would surely fall out. But it didn't. It just kept getting better. So I let that feeling go, and as I did, my stress just melted away.
I began to notice the songs of birds singing on the roof tops of neighbour's houses, the random ringing of church bells throughout the day, the clackety of women's heels on the sidewalk below the balcony. And every afternoon I was sure I heard the sound of sleighbells. Maybe it's the heat, getting to me, I thought, and I mentioned the bells to my friends.
No, no, they laughed. It's the pony. Listen, it's coming now.
I listened. I heard the bells, and this time I heard the clop-clop clop-clop of tiny hooves as well. I ran to the balcony in time to see the smallest Shetland pony I'd ever seen—small even in Shetland pony terms—coming around the corner. He was wearing red ribbons and his silver bells jingled with each precise step he took.
The pony was trotting briskly and looked proud to be pulling the two-seat cart that carried a driver and two passengers, clop-clop clop-clop, as steady as a Swiss clock.
I tuned in to the pony each day, about the same time. He'd bring different passengers; usually one or two; once, a family of five (including two very wide parents); always having a great deal of fun. Sometimes the pony made six or even more trips until darkness fell. He held his head up, lifted his legs high, and trotted at the same clop-clop clop-clop pace. Every time.
I think that that little pony really knew how much happiness he was bringing to the strangers in his cart. It looked like knowing that made him happy too, and he was happy to keep at it.
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I never did get a photo of that pony, though. Guess I'll just have to go back.
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