This is one of my favorite Benny memories. I was 18 and had had a very bad night and went to go see Benny at about nine o'clock at night...
blah blah blah personal stuff blah blah blah home life blah blah...but all of a sudden it was way too crowded, especially when I was starting to leak in that embarrassing region about my eyes, and every sign warned that I was about to blow. So I did the safest thing I could have done, and drove my sobbing ass to the barn, and then did the perfect and dangerous thing in bridling Benny and throwing on a helmet...and then, without bothering to remove his blanket, I climbed aboard bareback, and we traipsed off into the dark woods.
And it was amazing. I loved Benny so much right then, with his neck arched perfectly onto the bit, prancing and shying a bit at the odd shadows the clear moon sent in our path. Everything was so silver, so cold, so flawless and so beautiful. It was almost eerie, supernatural how in tune I felt with Benny, walking through the alternating shadows and streams of filtering moonlight. I was no longer here, me, trapped. I and my horse were one mythical creature, wandering through that path, the dark and the light becoming us, us becoming them, in the silence of the night. I dropped my identity, my problems, and I just was, in that peaceful solitude, with my slightly nervous horse and really cold upper half.
When we emerged into the back fields, it was proven that, while spring is most beautiful in the afternoon, summer in the morning, and autumn in the sunset, winter is most breathtaking at night under a full moon. Everything was so crisp and clear, with the stars winking down on us, and the dreary, dead colors of winter's hiding transformed into the famous silvers, ice blues and midnight indigos that a full moon casts over everything in a flawless night sky.
We climbed to the highest hill, and I halted my regal steed, and there we sat for several fleeting minutes that lasted ages enough for me to heal infinitely. Together we surveyed the scene below us: the moon and the stars, casting their peaceable spell on the rolling hills and illuminating the lake as if a thousand tears had fallen and frozen on its placid surface, the dark shadow of our enchanted wood, and the faraway twinkle of the lights of civilization, seemingly with nothing to do with us, part of a world to which, for just a breath more of time, we had no obligation. I looked down on all this peaceful perfection, this utopia that knew nothing of pain and heartache, nor fear, nor broken promises...knew nothing of distrust and betrayal, where the only tears came from the sky and nourished, in contrast to the hurt of human tears.
Looking down at this through the pricked ears and windblown mane of my horse, I leaned down and buried my face in Benny's crest, wrapping my arms around his neck. And then I cried. I cried for what seemed like hours, over everything I was feeling, everything I feared and could not share with a human soul. But I shared it with Benny, and he listened, and said not a word. But I knew he listened, felt my tears in his mane, and the pain in my heart. My fiery and hot Arabian, who can never find it in him to stand still more than three seconds, stood stock still for what must have been ten minutes, listening to me finally admit I was scared and spill my anguish to him.
When that anguish was spent, I finally sat up, and thanked him for putting up with me. In response, he carried me gently and carefully down the steep, uneven ground of the hill. As we wandered around the edge of the lake, heading back to our woods, I let my mind drift momentarily into what Benny must have sensed was the mundane, for he suddenly reminded me where he thought my attention ought to be: on him. Something spooked him, and for a second I found myself riding my horse's ribcage. But he didn't let me fall; he waited until I'd managed to wrest myself back into a secure position before continuing to spook at goodness knows what.
As he made his way back through the woods, I silently thanked him for reminding me what was important, and for carrying me through that healing journey. The woods weren't as enchanting on the return ride, but then, I didn't need to submerge myself in a safe place anymore. Everything was still beautiful, but Benny was positively rattled by then, and I was freezing. It was time to head home...for a few moments, I thought we were lost, but Benny knew the way home...he always does.
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