The horse seemed impossibly large.
Even through the rain, the monument dominated the point where the Rhine and Moselle met, a mountain of dark stone with an emperor on horseback balanced above it.
Corbin wanted nothing to do with it.
The broad staircase climbing the pedestal was soaked by freezing rain, each stone step polished smooth by more than a century of feet.
There were no handrails.
Even walking towards it, the wind swept across the open plaza hard enough that we leaned into it.
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
I crouched so he could climb into the carrier on my back.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders without another word.
His weight changed everything.
Every step demanded attention.
My boots searched for dry patches that didn’t exist while Corbin’s weight shifted gently with each stride, not enough to throw me off balance, but enough that I thought about it anyway.
I couldn’t catch myself if I slipped.
I wasn’t climbing for one anymore.
Ahead of us, Dani carried Avery in her own backpack.
We climbed slowly, saying little, each waiting for the other to find secure footing before taking the next step.
At the first landing, we ducked beneath the massive stone pedestal.
The wind vanished almost instantly.
Rain drummed overhead while the boys stayed tucked against us, warm enough now that neither complained.
One final staircase climbed toward the horse itself.
It was even steeper.
A heavy chain stretched across the entrance.
Closed.
Neither of us argued with the decision.
We each reached out and touched the chain anyway. Then we turned around for the part I’d been thinking about ever since we’d started.
Going down.
I went first.
Dani followed.
Every few steps I looked back.
I planted each foot before committing my weight, feeling for grip before taking the next step. Corbin stayed perfectly still, sensing, perhaps, that this wasn’t the time to wiggle or ask questions. He simply held on.
When we finally stepped back onto level ground, I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.
Only then did I look back up.
The monument was still absurdly large.
~
The cable cars rose overhead, gradually climbing over the Rhine to the hilltop castle on the other bank.
The ticket booth sat near the foot of the statue.
The attendant apologized as she charged us extra.
“This is a special event day. The castle grounds are hosting an enormous market.”
Dani nudged me.
“A market.”
The cable car climbed slowly over the Rhine.
The wind pushed at the cabin, swaying it gently and making the wires bounce.
The kids watched out the window.
Dani looked at her feet.
At the top, the doors opened, and the cold hit all at once.
I pulled my flannel shirt tight.
Dani shivered under her hood.
The kids buried their faces into us.
“What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Then we followed the path into the fortress. The market sat between stone walls and earth embankments, rows of stalls stretching ahead.
Apples.
Wool.
Wood carvings
Metalwork.
Dani moved stall to stall, scanning, noticing, collecting small intentions: a carved owl for her grandma, a metal bug for the kids.
“Just looking now. I’ll be back.”
Then she hurried to the next stall.
Corbin showed me his toys.
“Lizard and Spider are cold.”
I translated.
“Let’s go back to town and find somewhere warm.”
Dani agreed, then amended.
“One more loop first.”
I found a hollow in the wall and sat with the kids.
We ate snacks, and we waited.
When the next wet gust of wind howled by, they began crying.
“Where’s Mama?”
“I want Mama.”
I texted Dani in quick succession.
“Where are you?”
“Kids are crying”
“I need you. Now!”
Minutes passed.It felt like thirty, though it was probably less.
The kids’ crying got louder. Heads began turning.
A man approached, speaking German. I didn’t understand.
He got louder.
Another man stepped in.
“Are these your kids?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are they crying for their mother?”
We began to move.
The snow started as I walked, carrying both kids through the same loop of stalls.
No plan, just movement. Anything.
A vendor setting up gas fireplaces waved us over.
He turned one on. Warmth radiated from the glass.
“Don’t touch. It’s very hot.”
We held our hands near it, close enough for the life to return.
The kids quieted under its orange glow.
Then, behind me, Dani appeared.
“Come with me. I found somewhere inside.”
We walked back to the hollow where I’d been waiting.
It wasn’t an alcove after all. It became a tunnel.
Through it, the market opened into a larger courtyard with more tents, food, and space.
Topiaries shaped like dinosaurs.
Wine stalls.
Food.
Past it all, we came to an indoor hall built into the stone walls.
Warmth followed.
We sat, and we breathed.
In the distance a few workers in black shirts set up chairs and sound equipment for a future event.
They glanced at us, then turned back to their work.
The kids climbed into my lap.
Dani put on a movie for them. Then she went back into the snow.
This time, they didn’t cry.