July 24, 2013

Hoof Beats

I am two.  Sitting beneath a percheron.  Enjoying the shade.

I am three.  Feeding the neighbor's horse a cup of sugar from a banana split boat.

I am four.   Taken for a ride, and I am already cracked up on horse.

I am five.  I give my Granny anatomically correct drawings of the horse across the road.

I am six.  I am imprinted.  There is nothing as beautiful as the horse.

LIFE HAPPENS

I am ten.   My uncle buys for me a pony.  Which my father will not allow me to ride.

I am twelve.  The pony is sold (because I'm not allowed to ride it) and I experience my life's very first heart break.

LIFE HAPPENS

I am twenty six.   My first horse.  A little buckskin half-arabian.   My second horse.  Gallie Joe, a leggy purebred that doesn't like men.  I discover something  called endurance.  A dream is in the pit of my belly... Divorce.

LIFE HAPPENS

I am forty-eight.  My heart horse.  She gives me my first taste of what distance riding is.   My lovely mare is euthanized at nineteen years of age.

LIFE HAPPENS

I am fifty.   Training again.  The horse has metabolic disorders. 

LIFE HAPPENS

I am fifty-three.   The Spotted Wonder arrives.  She has lived in a stall and small lot most of her life.  She won't leave her buddies.  She bucks like a fiend when you try to canter.  She grabs the bit and bolts, and does the driving when the notion suits her.

LIFE HAPPENS

I am fifty-five.  The coal is still burning deep in my belly.  I have waited a lifetime it seems.  The Spotted Wonder is indeed becoming wonderful.  Hoof beats in the right direction ♥


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