So Icontinued emptying the bags, wondering if maybe Mother wasn't pregnant orsomething, maybe expecting a daughter soon. If so, she hadn't told meabou... it. She hadn't been dating that I was aware of. Maybe she was justgoing through one of those phases in a woman's life when she missed herchildhood years and memories. I thought I might ask her about it later.Once I'd finished emptying the car, I started on the bags in the kitchen.Mother walked in and suggested I put on an apron so I wouldn't get. Thenhe would gently push them away and collar their perplexed foal. He would leavethe mare to sniff its daughter's collar suspiciously for the few moments beforeall recollection of the event faded from her dull brain. ?The last foal he collared was the youngest; atiny creature of little more than a month old, no larger than a human baby ofthree years. Gershon sighed; so helpless at her age; too heavy for her motherto carry her to safety and too small and weak to run along beside her in. More

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