周四很特別

周四對于普通人來說只是個再平常不過的日子，然而，有這樣一群孩子，在與病魔斗爭的過程中，每每盼望周四的到來。因為他們知道，這是個能給他們帶來歡樂和勇氣的日子。

他有時周四會來，雖然有時因為癲癇病，他連車門都出不來，但是一般情況下他周四都會來。

他的監護人說，雖然他對其他事情知之甚少，也不會與其他人交流，但他卻知道周四這個特殊的日子。他可以看到，卻無法表達；在沒有人幫助的情況下不能站立；對這個世界一無所知，但他知道他要去騎馬的那一天。他只有10歲，根本無法像其他同齡孩子那樣生活。

盡管如此，我還是想講講他的故事，包括那些使他快樂并期盼周四到來的可愛的馬兒及馴馬人。

這里多年來有許多生病的孩子在騎馬項目中或多或少受益，但是沒有一個孩子如此感動我。這個孩子需要的是一匹穩健的馬、有足夠的耐心以適應騎馬人不太平衡的坐姿、在主人的面頰貼向自己的鬃毛并且能夠感受到主人如此近距離呼吸的時候明白他的指令。我們這里有許多這樣的馬能夠滿足他的要求。

騎馬的時候，一名志愿者站在馬的右側扶著孩子讓他坐穩，另一個人控制馬的方向，還有一人扶穩孩子給他以指導。孩子的任何一點小小的突破，我們都要給予認可和獎勵。孩子的每一次微笑、每一次手腳向正確的方向運動、每一次把注意力集中在指導者或馬兒身上，都被視為一項偉大的成就。

騎馬教程讓孩子一周都有不錯的心情。這樣的情形可以持續幾周，直到他因為病情嚴重或在車上突發癲癇而不得不放棄訓練，但是只要是周四他能來，他就會非?？鞓罚@得神采奕奕、躍躍欲試。

這個周四，當我們停下來等待另一位受助的騎馬者時，男孩伸手摸了摸我的頭發。我的手正放在他腿上，即使沒有看到，我也知道他坐得很穩。我四下看了看，他的舉動似乎表示他有話要說，馬穩穩地站在我身邊，或許這只馬兒有靈性，怕自己的動作會使小主人分心或者擾亂他的思維。

“什么？”我問道。他試著伸出手去撫摸，甚至能夠控制自己的手去做這樣的動作，這是極為不尋常的。他再次伸出手撫摸我的頭發，就像他在那些快樂的日子里撫摸馬鬃那樣。

我意識到他可能想讓我散開我那束成馬尾的及腰長發，讓它自由地披散下來；或許他希望我的頭發能像我們眼前的馬尾巴一樣，在風中自由搖擺；亦或他認為我今天的發型與前一陣的課程上所梳的不同，有點不適應。不管是什么原因，我知道他就是想要我把頭發散開來，于是我就按照他的意愿做了。他看著我，努力地將雙手碰觸到一起——這是他的鼓掌方式，而且，他沖我微笑著。

我們的訓練愉快地進行著，他很開心。在我的記憶中，這次訓練是他最高興的一次。男孩伸出手，我把腦袋靠近他，讓他可以輕而易舉地摸到我的頭發，就這樣，我們一起前行。

訓練結束了，他的監護人把他帶回到車上，我從來不知道這次是我最后一次見到他。很多周過去了，男孩都沒有再來，我也回到了大學。幾個月后我才得知，在那次訓練后不久，男孩就去世了。

我沒有哀傷，相反，我幻想著男孩已經到了天堂。騎著他最愛的馬兒，自由地馳騁，不用再等到每周四、也不用監護人的幫助。帶著甜甜的笑容飛奔于白云之間；微風吹過，輕撫著他的頭發和那一束飄逸的馬尾。

有這樣一座天堂，專門屬于那些從騎馬訓練中得到快樂的孩子們和他們可愛的馬兒。盡管他們不太明了塵世間的事情，但感謝上天讓我能夠看到孩子那種尋求快樂的意愿，我理解上帝為什么會把這些馬兒和孩子們賜予我們，因為他們也有并應該擁有自己追求快樂的特殊方式。

[編譯自國外英文網]

Thursdays Are Special

Sometimes he would come on Thursday and not even be able to get out of the car because of the seizures. Still he came， week after week.

His caretakers said he knew when it was Thursday， even though he knew little else and could not communicate how he knew. He could see， but not speak， could not even sit up unassisted. Yet， he knew when it was his day to go ride. He was only ten， and he didn't live to his teens.

Nevertheless， his story， which includes horses and horse people who made him smile and gave him something to look forward to one day a week， must be told.

Many years have passed and many children have benefited from various therapeutic riding programs. But none touched me as much as this one boy. He required a steady horse， one with patience with his rider's inability to balance and an understanding of the boy's need to occasionally lay his face on the mane and just breathe in horse smells. We had several wonderful horses that fille d the bill.

One volunteer would walk beside this youngster on the right and help hold him in the saddle， one would control the horse and another would walk on his left to steady him and be his instructor for the day. Any breakthroughs， no matter how small， were recognized and rewarded. A smile， an attempt to move a hand or leg in the right direction， even attention focused on the instructor or the horse were considered achievements.

One week， he was in very good spirits. This followed several weeks when he was either too ill to come or he had suffered seizures in the car and was forced to miss his lesson with the horses. But that day， he smiled. He seemed alert and willing.

We were stopped and waiting for another rider to be helped when my young student reached out and touched my hair. My hand was on his leg， so I knew he was steady， even though my eyes weren't on him. I looked around and knew he was trying to tell me something. The horse stood motionless， as if he knew his movement could distract or confuse his rider.

\"What? I asked. It was unusual for him to reach out and touch， to even control his hands enough to do so. He reached out again and stroked my hair， as he sometimes did to the horse's mane on good days.

I realized that my waist-length hair was back in a ponytail， and that he wanted it to hang down. Perhaps he wanted to see it， like the horse's tail in front of us， free and swinging. Or perhaps I had worn it down in other classes with him and it wasn't the same today. For whatever reason， I knew he wanted me to free that ponytail， so I did. He looked at me， managed to touch his hands together a couple of times in what he used as clapping， and he smiled at me.

Our lesson continued and he seemed to have a better time that day than I could remember him having in any other class. He reached toward me and I put my head so he could touch my hair several times while we were walking along.

I didn't know as his attendant carried him back to the car that it would be the last time I saw him. He missed several weeks， then I went back to college. I found out months later that he died not too long after that.

But instead of mourning， I thought of him in heaven， running out to his favorite horse， not having to wait until Thursday or for his attendants to help him. He and his horse would gallop across clouds， with him laughing and the horse's tail streaming freely behind as the wind sang through their hair.

There is a heaven for horses and for little boys who know what day they ride， even when they don't know much else. I'm grateful for having seen that desire， and for understanding that God gave us horses and little boys and that they all aren't the same， nor should they be.