We all have things we do on a regular basis. Many end up being routines; a task or commitment that we do out of some perceived sense of obligation or work requirement, or perhaps it’s simply done out of love. When it comes to the latter, the obligation is imposed by the heart in such a way that we (more often than not) look forward to doing it.
For years, my beloved and I had one of those loving obligations. Every day, we would go out to the barn to feed and care for our two horses, Charlie & Desi. It was a chore that quickly became a fun project thanks to the impish nature of Charlie’s behavior and the overabundance of love and attention he lavished on CeCe.
When Desi passed away in 2021, Charlie was understandably distraught. He would pace the fields looking for his companion, often standing in the middle of their favorite pasture while staring off into the distance. Eventually, he settled into a new routine where he would only graze and spend time in the spots that Desi used to frequent. It was then that CeCe came up with an idea: She would give Charlie a daily dose of kisses each day at dinnertime, accompanied by one of his favorite treats – a large apple. Charlie had two favorites: Red Delicious and Honeycrisp. Every evening, CeCe and I would go out to the barn and call Charlie in for dinner. After Desi’s passing, he would stay outside until his feed was ready. But once he caught on to the added treat, Charlie started to come inside to meet up with CeCe.
She always kept the apple wedges in her pocket in a small plastic bag. As CeCe prepared his dinner, Charlie would wait by his stall door until the food was ready. I would then take the bucket over and hang it in his stall. CeCe would be right behind me, but before adding the treat, she would look at him and ask:
“Are you ready for your surprise?”
When his ears perked up, she knew she had his undivided attention. She would then take out the apple wedges and place them into his bucket one at a time as she kissed him on his head. When the eighth wedge was dropped in and the final kiss delivered, he would dig in. This endearing practice went on for about 18 months; then CeCe contracted cancer.
When I took over the barn chores, that loving routine was passed on to me. At first, CeCe would watch me through a webcam I had placed in Charlie’s stall. Each time I came back into the house and went upstairs, I would be greeted by her beautiful smile. I took the time to do the apple routine because Charlie was acclimated to it and he loved it. But my primary motivation was to come back in and see that smile on CeCe’s face. Happiness was one of the greatest medications I could give her, and her smiles were the saving grace that kept me going.
Charlie remained with me on the farm for sixteen months after CeCe passed away. And for those sixteen months, that routine continued unabated. After he passed away in January of 2025, I still found myself drawn to go to the barn and check on him. Old habits may die hard, but habits born of love never die; they’re transformed. The tradition of making apple wedges continued, with me being the recipient while sharing an occasional wedge with the deer or squirrels. During the whole time I made those apple wedges, I followed the same routine each day. I would fold a paper towel twice and place it on the counter to create a small cutting pad. I would then place the apple on it and quickly push the apple corer through it. The paper towel would catch the juices, and I would put it aside to use the following evening. After a while, I’d grab another paper towel and continue the routine.
One evening as I was preparing the apple wedges, I started to think about all those kisses CeCe shared with Charlie as part of his nightly treats. I imagined that he must have received at least a thousand kisses. Lucky horse, for those kisses are now beyond priceless. And as my mind was passing the time on those thoughts, my hands kept going through the motions in preparing the apple wedges. But this time, I noticed something wondrous: The paper towel I was using held the image of a flower; a reddish flower.
Final Thoughts
That realization was the catalyst that flooded my mind with memories of the many flowers that have grown on the farm, and how much joy they brought into our lives. It was the most innocuous yet amazing connective thread that brought two seemingly distinct memories and three separate souls together.
The beautiful thing about memories is that, in one way or another, they leave behind traces of the love that make them unforgettable. And in that instance, I realized that the memories of those times shared in the barn through an unlikely intercessor had left behind remnants of a simple treat that blossomed into an unforgettable act of love filled with the enduring power of a thousand kisses.
Leave a Reply