I sit on my upper front porch, door open so that I can see hear if my daughter wakes up and calls for me from her room. In the pasture across the street, horses graze in the moonlight. I hear their soft snorts as they move lazily along the fence, heads down, jaws grinding.

I remember taking my sleeping bag to the barn when I was child, and hearing the same soothing noises as I drifted off to sleep in the hay. Once, I woke I the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. My pony, Rainyday, was not all surprised when I climbed on his back as he got his midnight snack. As I lay back on his haunches, his slow, rolling walk rocked me back toward sleep.

I picked this house over other similar ones because of the horses. I love sitting here, watching them. I love looking out any of the front windows and seeing them. I love driving to work and knowing they’ll be here when I get back. They make my new house feel like home.

I have not, however, gone over to ride one of them.

I revised this blog post into an essay you can now find in A Cup of Comfort for Single Mothers.