Today Kaheka was peeking at me from around the corner of the barn… only half of his face was visible. I looked briefly, then looked again. It was deja vu for me. I suddenly remembered a forgotten memory, a Rumplestiltskin character that I use to see where we lived nearly 60 miles south of here.
This old and wrinkled being would often peer kindly at me from around the corner of the rustic siding of the house. Silent, still, just there, looking, watching. He was ancient and otherworldly with knobby knees and boney knuckles, wearing soft eyes under his oversized felt hat, colorless like a living pencil sketch. I knew he was there, but didn’t take notice. Sometimes I saw him standing under the apple tree on the way to the barn. His presence was like a friendly smile that felt good. I would see him but didn’t acknowledge him even to myself. He was just an everyday part of my internal landscape like a moss covered fence post, seeing without seeing it.
I’ve kept him a secret for 14 years. This morning, with Kaheka looking around the rustic siding of the barn, I am reminded of that being again. Who is he? Is Kaheka hosting him here, or could it be that Kaheka, my long-legged, lanky, and warm-eyed thoroughbred, is he?
So, whose eyes were fixed on me today, unblinking, beckoning? I paused, stepped forward, and lingered with warm and familiar feelings.