Natalie
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Veem
- Posts: 1571
- Joined: Thu Jul 15, 2021 7:00 pm
- Location: Near Confolens in Charente
Natalie
Beautiful. I feel sure your poetic diary will touch many readers deeply, but perhaps horsey readers will be moved even more. You capture the consuming love of this girl for her friend and Jonquille's wisdom and sensitivity towards her little friend. Natalie was only four when you first introduced her to us and now she's had her sixth birthday. I do hope we hear more about her and Jonquille as she grows.
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Stinky
- Posts: 60
- Joined: Mon Jul 19, 2021 9:02 pm
- Location: Correze 19
Natalie
And so today got better.
An hour at Physio and a rush shop at Intermarche.
Not so good.
But it got better.
She cares not about her volume.
Pol!
And she is standing in my trolley.
Collar held by two hands and brown eyes demanding.
The giggle is starting some Grannies off.
Natalie cares not, curls flying, she is just gabbling at me.
Allo Pol.
Allo Mum.
Jerome is returning today with Vega, so no horses for Natalie.
Vega has raced 142km on Saturday and finished within qualifying time.
I ask.
She nods.
And so I have a limpet coming for some lunch.
The squeals are heard by all.
Those eyes.
All seeing, just too old for such a little girl.
She sees your soul.
And takes it.
Car window with squashed face.
Gappy grin.
Gate already open to save it damage.
The privilege of having somebody just launch themselves at you.
With love.
With abandonment.
Is truly something.
Brollies up and lunch being munched.
And I hear a noise.
Hooves on tarmac.
A sort of slide and scrabble on the road.
And I just know.
Natalie face down in chips and salad.
Open the gate and in she comes.
Jonquille.
You bloody great softie Jerome.
Into my courtyard and a little girl in tears.
Heaving sobs of happiness.
One hand raised and a walk to Jonquille.
Long face, wet eyes.
Small face wet eyes.
Faster than I see, Jerome is down and Natalie is in the saddle.
Feet so far from the stirrups.
Give what you want.
To whoever you want.
You will not compete with this moment.
Several rounds of the courtyard.
And Natalie is face down in a windblown mane.
Thank you Jerome.
EDIT | REPLY
An hour at Physio and a rush shop at Intermarche.
Not so good.
But it got better.
She cares not about her volume.
Pol!
And she is standing in my trolley.
Collar held by two hands and brown eyes demanding.
The giggle is starting some Grannies off.
Natalie cares not, curls flying, she is just gabbling at me.
Allo Pol.
Allo Mum.
Jerome is returning today with Vega, so no horses for Natalie.
Vega has raced 142km on Saturday and finished within qualifying time.
I ask.
She nods.
And so I have a limpet coming for some lunch.
The squeals are heard by all.
Those eyes.
All seeing, just too old for such a little girl.
She sees your soul.
And takes it.
Car window with squashed face.
Gappy grin.
Gate already open to save it damage.
The privilege of having somebody just launch themselves at you.
With love.
With abandonment.
Is truly something.
Brollies up and lunch being munched.
And I hear a noise.
Hooves on tarmac.
A sort of slide and scrabble on the road.
And I just know.
Natalie face down in chips and salad.
Open the gate and in she comes.
Jonquille.
You bloody great softie Jerome.
Into my courtyard and a little girl in tears.
Heaving sobs of happiness.
One hand raised and a walk to Jonquille.
Long face, wet eyes.
Small face wet eyes.
Faster than I see, Jerome is down and Natalie is in the saddle.
Feet so far from the stirrups.
Give what you want.
To whoever you want.
You will not compete with this moment.
Several rounds of the courtyard.
And Natalie is face down in a windblown mane.
Thank you Jerome.
EDIT | REPLY
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Stinky
- Posts: 60
- Joined: Mon Jul 19, 2021 9:02 pm
- Location: Correze 19
Natalie
Two weeks.
Two weeks since her last visit.
Not mine, not blood, not family, but her impact is devastating.
Destined to outlive me, I will never forget her.
The car is there.
Mum opening the doors and and a mini being exploding back into my life.
But not alone.
A boy, maybe ten or so, stands awkwardly by the car.
No smile, just unsure.
Natalie climbing up a big, grey haired old bloke who he cannot understand.
Jonquille? I whisper and feel the shiver and hear the shriek from within.
Fist and thumb, I walk back to the car.
His name is Remy and he is wary of me.
Fist and thumb we head to the farm.
Five bar gate closed or open, it matters not to Natalie.
I am sure she will hurdle it one day.
Hundred metres or so away and Jonquille sees her.
And so she comes, at a full bloody gallop.
Sliding to a halt, she waits by the fence.
Remy, eyes like saucers.
Unclip the leccy fence and Natalie is in.
Long face down, hugged and a little girl’s dress dribbled on.
Remy is watching, and I offer a hand.
No chance.
Awe and fear equal partners in his face.
Natalie turns and says ‘this is my horse!’
Remy is watching, just outside of the unclipped fence.
Natalie is giggling, stroking, cuddling and talking to ‘her horse’.
You can see the itch in Remy.
But you can see the fear.
Head down and a mane held by a manic little fist, Jonquille happily chews her dress.
Mum takes his hand and Jonquille is neared.
I see Jerome by the barn, just watching, folded arms and a hint of a grin.
Remy is close but scared.
Natalie is talking at him, too fast for me.
And gets him, two hands pulling one of his.
Jonquille is watching, calm and waiting.
I have seen this horse race.
140 km was her distance.
She was a monster, had to be in front, utterly competitive and not unknown to try to bite horse or jockey trying to pass her.
Remy is close to his first ever horse.
Brought as a school friend by Natalie.
Jonquille, as ever plays the game.
Head down and a patient wait.
Ringlets framing a gappy grin, she pulls him towards a long face.
Scared he stands there, and then Jonquille farts.
The biggest raspberry you have ever heard and two children are down, gasping with laughter and just….dying.
Head down and Jonquille is nuzzling two wriggling children.
I swear she did it on purpose.
Two weeks since her last visit.
Not mine, not blood, not family, but her impact is devastating.
Destined to outlive me, I will never forget her.
The car is there.
Mum opening the doors and and a mini being exploding back into my life.
But not alone.
A boy, maybe ten or so, stands awkwardly by the car.
No smile, just unsure.
Natalie climbing up a big, grey haired old bloke who he cannot understand.
Jonquille? I whisper and feel the shiver and hear the shriek from within.
Fist and thumb, I walk back to the car.
His name is Remy and he is wary of me.
Fist and thumb we head to the farm.
Five bar gate closed or open, it matters not to Natalie.
I am sure she will hurdle it one day.
Hundred metres or so away and Jonquille sees her.
And so she comes, at a full bloody gallop.
Sliding to a halt, she waits by the fence.
Remy, eyes like saucers.
Unclip the leccy fence and Natalie is in.
Long face down, hugged and a little girl’s dress dribbled on.
Remy is watching, and I offer a hand.
No chance.
Awe and fear equal partners in his face.
Natalie turns and says ‘this is my horse!’
Remy is watching, just outside of the unclipped fence.
Natalie is giggling, stroking, cuddling and talking to ‘her horse’.
You can see the itch in Remy.
But you can see the fear.
Head down and a mane held by a manic little fist, Jonquille happily chews her dress.
Mum takes his hand and Jonquille is neared.
I see Jerome by the barn, just watching, folded arms and a hint of a grin.
Remy is close but scared.
Natalie is talking at him, too fast for me.
And gets him, two hands pulling one of his.
Jonquille is watching, calm and waiting.
I have seen this horse race.
140 km was her distance.
She was a monster, had to be in front, utterly competitive and not unknown to try to bite horse or jockey trying to pass her.
Remy is close to his first ever horse.
Brought as a school friend by Natalie.
Jonquille, as ever plays the game.
Head down and a patient wait.
Ringlets framing a gappy grin, she pulls him towards a long face.
Scared he stands there, and then Jonquille farts.
The biggest raspberry you have ever heard and two children are down, gasping with laughter and just….dying.
Head down and Jonquille is nuzzling two wriggling children.
I swear she did it on purpose.
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Veem
- Posts: 1571
- Joined: Thu Jul 15, 2021 7:00 pm
- Location: Near Confolens in Charente
Natalie
Oh, you really got the measure of a horse fart in a way that a non-horsey person never could imagine. It's a powerful jet propellor and more than that - it is so funny!
Another beautifully sensitive painting in words, Stinky though it seems rude to mention your name after all that talk of farting!
Another beautifully sensitive painting in words, Stinky though it seems rude to mention your name after all that talk of farting!