I am hit with the smell of manure instantly
as I walk into the barn.
The smell most people despise
makes me feel calm and at home.

I stride down the aisle,
the sounds of neighs and whinnies filling
my ears.
Sixth stall on the left belongs to Nostalgia.
Her ears perk forward when she catches
my eye.

I push open the heavy stall door
and sit on the border of the maple wood.
She lays her muzzle in my lap.
I give her a gentle rub.

Nostalgia – a sentimental longing or
wistful affection for the past.
How ironic that this is her name.
I feel a tinge of heartbreak in my chest.

Nostalgia is what I feel thinking about her.
The best part of my life has been away
from me.
I long for the past, the days I had Nostalgia.
But I do have Nostalgia.

Just not the right one.