I try to record all arrival and departure times in the daily register but I do not see everyone coming in and this day was no exception to that. I had...stepped away for a moment and when I returned, sitting in one of the lounge chairs was a lovely young girl that has been here several times with her mother to ride the horses. Her mom had taken one out to ride already, but nothing recorded for the little girl."Hello there young lady, how are you today? Where is your mom?" I asked. Looking at her. I’ve become so familiar with the smooth fabric over my head, shielding me from those tears that fall down, full of pity for what I’ve become. The slick, cool feeling as my hand brushes against it…the canvas is turquoise. It loves to look down at me, almost as if asking if I can remember the sky. I often wonder if I do remember the sky. I can’t help but feel like the sky was something that existed before this world. It was something to be enjoyed, like the warm waves of summertime sun, running. More

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