Listening to every heart
For Serenity [and all mothers and fathers who will someday be Grands….]
How is it that 40 years can be wiped away by a hidden smile, some anticipation, and a horse named Roscoe?
I had her pigtails, once.
Never wore the helmet.
Rode the ride, though, once upon a time.
My dreams to ride my own horse as a youngster were derailed by economics. Let’s face it. Dad’s education and three mouths to feed didn’t always give us kids what some kids are “blessed with” today. As a matter of opinion, some kids have way too much, but those are my thoughts.
And in some other ways, I have been fortunate to enjoy, in these last 24 years, and experience some financial “ease”…in other words, no longer robbing Peter to pay Paul. Oh, yes, I’ve worked hard, but never had the “genius” [*smile*] that some folks have. But I also grew up very appreciative of the smallest gestures, which, at all times, seem like the grandest of all gifts.
Like the time in 1970, when our folks took us kids on our “last” “family” vacation, before I married for the first time [to the guy who made me experience my robbing from Peter to pay Paul.]
When my Dad talked to a nephew of his when we arrived on Dad’s home turf – South Dakota – and arranged for his “little girl” to have a quiet, on-her-own horse ride – shhhhh, a big secret…so big, that since I didn’t know where Dad and I were going, I still had my hair in curlers for the big dinner that evening – but guess what? Once I found out what Dad had in mind, I knew the horse wouldn’t care…*supergrin*
My dad’s conundrum? He knew I sat a horse well. He knew I had a knack…and he knew he couldn’t deliver my one dream.
That one dream of having my own horse.
When children dream, they dream big.
And horses are big. *smile*
This is my granddaughter, Morgan ["Paige" to you Pipsters], sitting her dream. This little “vacation” to Colorado Springs with Grandma and Grandpa was, I think, fun to some extent – the hot air balloon ride was “grandpa’s dream” come true and she enjoyed it – but the highlight of the high hills was going for a two-hour horse ride. Not long enough, granted, but when you’re going through The Garden of the Gods on horseback…well, let’s just say she was in heaven.
So was grandma, when going in more or less a horizontal direction. Seems I always had the luxury of going straight across the country… It was when we hit the hills and valleys of the ride that, ahem, my age began to show. LOL…[oh yes, I’m remembering another story for another time…]
I knew the tricks…and as I followed Morgan on Roscoe…she got some careful guidance to “lean forward” or “loosen the reins but lean back” so the rocky trail could be traversed safely.
The photo above is not considered “The Garden” but…seeing as how it’s sitting just about on the outskirts of the Gardens, you can have some appreciation of the trail we rode. You see…after taking the picture above of Morgan on Roscoe…my camera stopped working. But, you can see her little disposable? She is the one who took pictures and, in a day or so, I hope to have some copies. SHE was in charge of taking all photos from horseback. What a grand moment for her…in front of me and her grandpa…in charge of capturing moments…and sitting the saddle so well….
I won’t tell you what still hurts on me, two days later. Suffice to say, I tried biking a few times before going for the ride, and am certainly glad I did…I’m sure I’d be hurting even more if I hadn’t…but the inclines and declines were, in some areas, some 15 to 20 degrees, and guess what?
I AM 52….and out of shape….LOL….
My husband has a cousin who has horses. He’s invited me to come ride, sometime.
I think I’m going to take the cousin up on his offer.
Because some dreams just don’t die.
[This message has been edited by Sunshine (06-26-2004 11:23 PM).]