Love, Ponies, Seagulls, and a Velveteen Rabbit

There was another side to the external beauty of the horse estate I mention in the post below. Above is a photo of a small barn (more like a big shed) that one of the horse caretakers made into her own personal barn for her pony, Poco.

She was poor and dressed the part. (That's me with her pony in pic) Her hair was long and blonde; her eyes were crooked. The others on the grand estate spoke of her as if she was not right mentally. All I know is that she always had a smile on her face.

As I became friends with her, she told me her story. Her father was an abuser, probably hit her on the head one too many times. She ran away and lived on her own from a young age. Traveling around the states, working shoveling horse poo and cleaning barns, she had no home, family, or money. She had attempted suicide many times, once driving a sharp, silver, letter-opener into her hand--right in front of her uncaring father, on his desk. But even that did not get her the attention she craved: LOVE.

Her pony was her only friend. I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to give her love.

One day she gave me a book called, The Velveteen Rabbit. Its pages were worn and she told me she had read it many times. She didn't own much, but this book was hers. I was honored. Then she smiled as she told me a very sad thing.

The estate owners found out about her hidden pony and she had to go. She smiled as she spoke, but her eyes filled with tears that never fell. I asked where she would go. She didn't know, yet she seemed confidant she would be alright. "You were nice to me," she said. I held the book tightly between my hands.

Around my neck was a silver plated seagull that my mother had given me for my birthday, because I loved seagulls and the book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, " Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thoughts, he lived a long fine life indeed." I took it off and gave it to her. She immediately put it on, saying, "I'll always wear it."

That was the last of saw of her and I often wonder what became of her. I did not read the book she gave me for many months, it looked like a book from her childhood. When I finally read it, I was touched beyond words. (Most of you probably know the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, a toy that comes to life.)

" The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." "...once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

When you love someone, you give them life. I hope my friend found love wherever she went. She was one of the most beautiful people I've ever known.