Her name is Elena.
She’s the last foal born this season on the breeding farm.
She doesn’t know it yet, but in three months she’ll be separated from her mother, not ready, not prepared to leave the safety of mom.
She’s put in a group of mares her age.
But she’s much smaller than the rest.
She’s forced to wait her turn to eat.
That first winter, a bad worm infection gets her pulled from the group.
She’s sick, and for the first time, completely alone.
She misses her mother.
She dreams of nursing again, of her mother’s warm belly against her nose. Safety.
A strange noise wakes her.
Someone walks in. She tries to run, but she’s too weak.
She freezes as hands check her mouth and pull at her ear and tail.
Then she feels a small injection in her neck.
They let go and leave. She’s left in shock, what just happened?
Elena recovers.
At three years old, she’s sold to a good home.
She will never see her mother again.
May this painting be a reminder.
To pause, every now and then, and imagine the world from her side.
To meet her with the same gentleness and understanding you’d give to your own baby.
