The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse: A Lifeline for You

One of my favourite books of all time is The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. Unfortunately, I first experienced it as a movie (a beautiful one, by the way), but I think experiencing the book first would have allowed me to savour its quiet, heartfelt wisdom even more. The story, or rather the journey, is a tapestry of simple yet profound reflections on life, love, friendship, and hope. Still, its profound simplicity resonated deeply with me as a single career mum navigating the often chaotic terrain of life.

The book, written and illustrated by Charlie Mackesy, isn’t just a story; it’s a quiet conversation about kindness, courage, and the messy beauty of being human. At its core, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse is less a linear tale and more a collection of meaningful conversations between four unlikely companions. Each character represents different aspects of the human experience. The boy embodies curiosity and vulnerability, the mole craves sweetness (both literal and metaphorical), the fox is guarded due to past hurt, and the horse radiates quiet wisdom. Together, they explore what it means to live bravely and kindly in a complicated world. For me, it felt like a warm hug on a day when everything seemed too hard — the kind of day when work feels like a battlefield, your child has a million questions you don’t have the energy to answer, and the bills are piling up like an unwelcome guest.

As a single mum, my life often feels like a balancing act on a tightrope that’s fraying at both ends. I often find myself on an emotional seesaw—juggling the chaos of the workplace, the relentless demands of bills, and the sheer weight of a life that doesn’t pause to catch its breath. Then there’s my son — my curious, bright-eyed 11-year-old who has a million questions about everything. "Mum, what is Coptic? Mum, who is Jack Frost? Mum, why’s Rudolf’s nose red?” He reminds me of the boy in the story, constantly seeking answers to life’s big and small mysteries, he reminds me to see the world through a lens of wonder, even when my view is clouded by stress. Sometimes I find the energy to engage, but other times I feel like the fox — silent and withdrawn, just trying to keep going. Depression, for me, often feels like a lurking shadow. It doesn’t announce itself; it just quietly steals the colour from your days. There are mornings when the weight of it feels unbearable, and I question whether I’m doing enough — for my kids, for my career, for myself. Yet, it’s in these moments that I’m reminded of the horse’s wisdom: “Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent.”

Then there’s the mole, who unapologetically declares his love for cake. It’s a simple, almost childlike love, but isn’t that the point? It’s a reminder to find small joys amidst life’s chaos. For me, this might mean a stolen moment with a cup of coffee before another Zoom meeting or a silly game with my son before bedtime. These little pockets of happiness are my equivalent of the mole’s cake—small indulgences that make life bearable.

The fox, silent and wary, speaks to the part of me that wants to retreat when workplace “idiots” test my patience. (And yes, there’s always one!) His quiet presence reminds me of the power in choosing when to speak and when to walk away. Not every battle needs to be fought; sometimes the wisest move is to conserve your energy for what truly matters.

And finally, the horse—strong, compassionate, and wise. “What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever said?” the boy asks. The horse’s answer: “Help.” That single word strikes a chord so deep it brings tears to my eyes. Asking for help has always felt like admitting defeat, but this gentle reminder reframes it as an act of strength, of courage. Whether it’s leaning on a friend, seeking therapy, or even admitting to my son that I don’t have all the answers, asking for help is how I keep going.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse isn’t about solving life’s problems. It’s about holding space for the complexities of life — the heartbreak, the joy, the quiet triumphs, and the struggles that feel never-ending. It reminds me to be kinder to myself, to find strength in vulnerability, and to keep moving forward, even if all I can manage today is to put one foot in front of the other.

For every person out there, juggling career ambitions, parenting, and the messy realities of life, this book is a gentle reminder that you are enough. You don’t have to have all the answers, be the perfect employee, or solve every problem. Sometimes, just being here — showing up, loving, trying — is more than enough. And on the days when it doesn’t feel like it, remember what the horse said: “You are loved just as you are.”

So, whether you pick up the book or watch the movie first, I hope its message stays with you as it has with me: that in the midst of life’s chaos, there is beauty, kindness, and hope.