Three years ago I wrote a blog called Horses, Horses, Horses. Its an odd thing to read a blog I wrote with which I no longer agree. I spent fifteen years remembering my scary fall. I spent thirteen years ignoring my husband when he talked about how much he wanted our daughters to ride horses. He always wins. He’s way more tenacious than I am. Therefore, I have spent the last two years praying like crazy that my daughter would not fall off as we sent her to horse camp.
Somewhere along the line I decided that I didn’t need to live with a fear that I could probably overcome. I don’t want to be the kind of mom that sits on the sideline. I want to be the kind of mom that gets in there and plays and learns and grows and fights. So I signed my daughter and I up for lessons.
The first week I was absolutely terrified. However seven weeks of watching the courage of my daughter and listening to our crazy patient teacher I’m doing better. My horse, Chaktah and I have come to a level of understanding. I know how to groom and tack and do their feet. I can tie a 4H knot. Last night we loped. (For those of you with an elementary horse knowledge like myself loping is to Western riding what Cantering is to English riding. Its fast. It’s a little scary. It’s a lot of fun). I’m still clumsy and have to be continually reminded to watch my posture. But over the last seven weeks my inner dialogue has switched from “Don’t fall off, Don’t fall off.” to “Shoulder’s back, Heels down.” This is progress.
Really I wanted to write this updated blog solely to show you this photo. I didn’t actually know that I loved horses until I saw this photo.
Sometimes it is fun to be wrong. Turns out I love the sound and feel of the leather saddle. I love the smell of the barn. I love the curry brush. I love watching my daughter ride. I love that my baby smiled watching us. I love that my husband told me last night to go buy a pair of cowboy boots. I love this sweet giant horse. He reminds me of a preschooler. So a revision was due.