By Judy Wiesbrock
Let's start from the beginning so you can better understand my excitement. My name is Olivia and I just turned eight years old. I live on a farm with my parents and three siblings. Everyone says that I look like my dad's side of the family, but my love of horses comes from my mom.
Horses, horses and more horses: they are what I live for. I have photographs, books, and statues of horses scattered throughout my bedroom. Mom does not know it, but I even have horse stickers beneath my pillow, so I will have the best horse dreams ever.
There are times each day that I slip out of the house to find a horse that just has to be brushed. When I have a bad day at school, the horses are the only creatures that can calm me down. If my brother Ben and sisters, Marilyn, and Grace, are acting crazy, I can count on the horses to relieve my headaches. And when my parents get on my nerves, yep, you guessed it, the horses are the friends whose company relieves my parental woes.
On was January 10, 1999, Maura, my favorite pony, was due to have her first foal. Mom teased me for days that she should have hidden the calendar because I was a basket case waiting for Maura to have her baby.
It is not uncommon for horses to go over their due date and to foals one or even two weeks late. But when Maura's due date was two and a half weeks past, I started to get worried. Mom insisted that worrying was just going to turn me into an old, wrinkled, worrying worm. "Thanks Mom," I thought, "that is just what I wanted to be called-a wrinkled, worrying worm."
It had been snowing all day, turning our farm into a wonderful white playground. During the day, dad pulled us on our sleds behind one of the farm tractors. It was incredible fun, and I wished we could have sledded all day. But it was now getting colder, and it was time to go in for dinner. Before returning to the house, though, I made a dash to the barn in order to check Maura. "Hey Maura, it's me again. How are you doing?" As I entered her stall with a soft grooming brush in hand, Maura lifted her head and rested it on my shoulder. She seemed a little bit uncomfortable, but nothing out of the ordinary. "Hey, my friend, how are you? Are you going to have this baby tonight or are you going to keep it in there until spring comes?" I said aloud, as I gently brushed her swollen belly. In spite of the cold night air, I had a warm feeling inside. Maura stood perfectly still as I softly brushed her heavy winter's coat. Every so often she would nibble from the hay in the manger at the head of her stall. We were at peace with each other. This was one event that I was not going to miss.
"Olivia, Olivia, where are you?" I heard my mom call. I elected to ignore this initial call, I continued my brushing. Shortly thereafter, though, I heard her high pitched whistle. It could be heard for miles, and it was understood that when we heard it, we were to come running. That was the law-no ifs, ands, or buts. "Sorry Maura, that was the whistle. I must go for now, but I'll sneak back as soon as I can."
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