Goodbye Pony

It’s been about 17 years since his departure. I don’t remember it clearly and this surprises me because I remember most things. It bothers me that I don’t remember. The last day I saw him continues to be a fuzzy hole in my memory.

Perhaps it’s because I did not like him. Yes, his presence was noteworthy, he was my first pony after all, but his character was not. He was not loving and enjoyed ravaging me with his bad behavior.

I may not remember his departure but I do remember all of those times atop his runaway back, his attempts to knock me off by rubbing me on the fence and having to squeeze out from under him when he decided to lay down on me.

His naughtiness was a steady constant.

I am cautious to make this connection but our relationship was distant, just like the one I had with my grandfather who gifted him to me. I don’t remember the day he left either, probably because I was not that there.

We had not been in his life and he had not been in ours for years. No phone calls were exchanged and no final attempts to make amends were made before he left this world. He disappeared quietly from my memory just like that pony.