Milo's Eyes by Lissa Bachner

Author:Lissa Bachner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Behler Publications, LLC

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Over a year ago, I had watched my mom load the box I was now staring at into her car and drive away. We’d argued about my decision to donate my show clothes but in the end, I managed to convince her to take the box of riding attire to Goodwill. Or so I thought.

In a daze, I looked up at my mom whose smile had grown broader. “You’re amazing,” I said. “I can’t believe you kept all of this.”

Expertly, she used a key to slice through the layers of tape that sealed the box. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I had no problem tossing all of your other boxes into the donation bin but when I came to this one, it felt wrong. It wasn’t just riding clothes I was giving away. There was a part of you in this box.”

She tore the tape off the box but left the honor of opening it to me.

“It’s like Christmas,” I said, sliding the cardboard panels apart. I reached into the box and began pulling out its contents.

“My boots!” I squealed, hugging them to my chest.

Before I could empty anything else onto the floor, my mom suggested we drag the box back to my condo. Once we got it into my bedroom, she helped lay its contents on top of the bed. It had been more than a year since my riding clothes had seen the light of day and they reeked of neglect.

“They’re clean,” Mom said, shaking out one of my white show shirts. “Let them air out overnight and they’ll be as good as new.”

After the box was empty, she helped me pack for the horse show. When she offered me a light gray show coat, I shook my head and selected the black jacket that had been slung over one of my pillows.

“It has to be this one,” I said, giving the fine wool coat a vigorous shake.

Mom hung it inside a garment bag, along with my riding shirt and pants. She stared at the blue bag for a minute before turning her attention back to me.

“I have to admit, when I made up my mind to keep your riding clothes, I never imagined you’d be wearing them again,” she said, taking a seat next to me on the bed and wrapping her arm around me.

I inhaled deeply and rested my head on her shoulder.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see these clothes again, much less wear them.”

With her free hand, my mom smoothed the wrinkles from one of the shirts on the bed. She was quiet, which usually meant she had something on her mind. Given the suitcase we’d just packed and the riding clothes that surrounded us, I could guess what was bothering her.

“I’ll be okay,” I said attempting an air of confidence.

“I know,” she said resting her cheek against the top of my head, “but you can’t blame me for being worried. Especially when I think about what you’re attempting to do with such little vision.

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