Lofty Ideas of a Tarnished....Spotty Mind

A New Start
The mysterious appeal of horses is deeply ingrained in my blood. Starting at age 4, I was drawing them, petting them, feeding them grass, pretending to be one.
Then I met my best friend at the county fair. She was there with her pony, Banjo, and she took me for a ride. She took us over a log, and we both fell off. It was the first, but definitely not the last, of many long and happy years of falling, tumbling, flying, laughing....with the two of us on our horses. My butt hurt...and I was hooked.
Another few weekends with a different friend are ingrained in my mind. Rod Stewart was lamenting to Angie on the radio, and we were just young enough not to care about boys...yet. It must have been fifth grade. I remember this friend as a wild girl; she lived way up in the woods, and had forts and horses. I was mesmerized and wanted to live with her forever. The one thing I remember most about those times was my first ride on her pony. It was only my second ride on a Shetland pony; it was also to be my last, as I swore I'd never ride one again. I was feeling pretty cocky and self-assured as we rode along the trail. We broke into a trot, and before I even felt it happening, I was flying straight towards the ground, as "BayBoy" took a quick left turn. I was left with my face in the dirt, fighting to get air into my lungs. Some people would have given up right there and then. Not me! I got right back on and we rode the rest of the day. That night we went on a "secret mission", riding our horses quietly through the woods in the pitch darkness. Who knows why we did such a thing....only a crazy cowgirl could know the answer to that one.
I could go on and on about all my times, but that will have to wait. I have many more stories to tell....lessons learned, sad times, wild, happy, fun and crazy times.....that will be told in due time.
The link between horses and people goes back a long, long time. I remember reading The Black Stallion for the first time. It was my first glimpse at the art of horse whispering. It has taken me many, many years to grasp the entire meaning of the concept. It started, for me, with a strong yearning to get closer to any horse I could find. Once I connected, I yearned for more, and during the times in my life when I was Without Horses, I felt empty. The connection, once felt, is absolutely indescribable. It is more than a feeling. It reverberates throughout your entire being. Once the connection with the horse happens, you are one. Her ear is on you at all times. You move as one, think, breath, feel as one.
It took me half my life to learn that being Appaloosa-crazy is, for me, a hereditary malady. I got it from my Uncles...not just one, but both of them. Therefore it must be excused. The only cure is to add more spots.
More ramblings from the trail...later.

Lofty Ideas of a Tarnished Mind

Lofty Ideas of a Tarnished Mind

The birthday was the hardest day I've ever had to go through.
After 42 years of taking it for granted that a simple "happy birthday" would be heard...this year it didn't happen. The hollow emptiness of her just being GONE is the hardest thing by far.
People remember relative's birthdays for various reasons. For me, seeing the smile on her face, the warmth in her voice, the happiness I felt in my heart knowing I made her proud, those were all reasons to do whatever I had to do to make her birthday special. It wasn't because it HAD to be done, it was because it was what she would have done for me, or anyone.
She was the kind of person who would talk to strangers. I remember when I was younger it rather embarrassed me...but as I got older, I realized that being kind to strangers wasn't such a bad or embarrassing thing to do. She went out of her way to be kind to everyone.
The whole day, May 28th, was always centered around and for her. Now that she is gone, the day was like a dark, black vortex of pain. The tears simply would not stop, nor did I try to stop them. Four days of pain and tears, and finally a day breaks and I don't have to cry.
Until the next time I remember something, like the way she smells, the way she laughs, the feel of her hand holding mine. And my heart breaks again, the hollow emptiness I feel swallows me up, and I remember I will never see her beautiful face again, at least here on this earthly plane.
A friend told me I should be over this by now. It's been almost a year, I'm using it as an excuse to isolate, says he. My heart tells me I will never be over this. Ever. I never imagined I could feel this much pain and still be breathing.