ALL THE PRETTY LITTLE HORSES
When She had been very, very young, her even younger sister was the one who had all the plastic horses. They were beautifully posed and colored, and every child who loved horses had at least a couple of them. Her sister had, maybe, a dozen, maybe less. They'd put the 'people' from the 'doll house' collection on them, and pretended to ride them around the floor-filled construct of books laid out to be rooms, with the doll-house furniture all 'in' these rooms. The set-up took up most of their bedroom floor. Most of the little horses were still bigger than every thing else in the set-up, but imagination shifted the sizes of everything around in their heads so that everything was just right. They were two sisters who were more alike than not. They certainly had the same sort of imaginations about the toy horses.
Those toy horses would be worth twenty to fifty dollars apiece now, She thought. And each piece of doll-house furniture would be worth that much too...too bad there were only a few pieces left, and only a couple of the little horses. Anyway, the horses had been mainly played with to sublimate for there not being many horses to ride on in the two girls' world. There were ponies at the County Fair and at some carnivals, that walked round and around in a circle on a lead line...those were kind-of fun...then there were the horses near the apple tree on the farmer's property they weren't supposed to be on. They would sit up in the tree and watch the couple of horses and all the pigs below them, while they both chomped and nibbled on hard, not-so-ripe apples in the summer sun...
Her sister was considered the 'horse-lover', because she was the 'tomboy'. She, herself, was the Fem One, who wore the dresses and dressed-up as the female in all of their 'plays'. Her sister would play the male parts, without protest. It was just the way it was in the family - their roles to play. Her sister wanted her own horse badly, and got all the horse books for Christmasses and Birthdays. She would be allowed to read them after her sister finished them. On the other hand, She was known to read every book in sight, and even can labels, so no one noticed that She enjoyed the horse stories as much as her little sister did.
Her mother was very nervous about her children's safety, and was worried about when to let them have horse-back-riding lessons, which mainly the tomboy was hankering for. Their Mama had been a pretty good rider in her own day, and there were some nice photos in black-and-white of her riding and looking very elegant on a horse in Lincoln Park in Chicago. It wasn't that she was unwilling for her girls to learn riding. She was simply over-cautious. Finally, she found a ring where her girls could take English riding lessons, and made the arrangements.
Their Dad was happy they were going to take lessons. He had wanted to get them up on horses much earlier. He had actually been a cowboy back in the day, on a ranch in East Texas. He was a natural on any horse, and would ride whenever one of his farm friends would let him take out one of theirs for exercise. His saddle of choice was western, naturally, and he loved the boots and the stetson hat and the jeans and the big belt and the western shirt as well. He would wear his gear whenever he could get away with it. She often thought her Dad should have married a farm woman or a ranch woman or something, and lived out on a ranch. Their own mother was not that type at all....
So, their lessons began...She and her sister were so excited! Once up on the big horses, tho, it was really hard work! You had to keep your 'seat', your posture on your bottom, just right; your thighs holding on just right; your knees and thighs and heels at the ready to nudge directions to your horse in all four directions; your heels down; your back and shoulders down but relaxed: your reins correctly held, alert, soft, yet directional at all times...there was a Lot to Remember! And, there were all the times that She, and her sister, felt afraid of the big horses. mainly because their mother would get so upset if the horses were going 'too fast' or if She and her sister looked too rattled over the horse shying away, or just being restless, as horses do. It was sort-of fun to take lessons, and sort-of not...
One lesson day, it was really sunny and 'nice' out...it must have been in the summertime... Green trees and leaves were gently blowing here and there in little breezes. They were starting to learn to trot. If you have ever been on a horse that is trotting for the first time with you on his back, then you know what they were doing. they were bouncing all over like slack-jawed jelly fish filled with rocks! Precisely, that is what her sister and She were doing... The horses were not happy... Her sister and She were not happy. They were supposed to be 'posting', a graceful and rhythmic movement up and down from the knees and thighs, matching the horse's every move in a sort-of counterpoint that would avoid this jouncing. They were supposed to be rising and descending with total control, from the firm, yet directional, and of course, soft grip of these very thighs and knees. This sequence of movement could not be observed in either her sister or herself. They were, simply, bouncing up and down with pained looks on their young faces. It was going to be a long time and many lessons before they would begin to master 'posting', and their horses were not happy about them being on their patient backs...not at all....
Her horse kept trotting, but her sister's horse was making a bid to bolt from the whole scene. He was beginning a gallop, with the obvious intent of dismounting his bouncing burden. Her sister, terrified, flew backwards off her mount! She, older and a little less afraid, was able to somehow bring her disgusted steed to an innocent walk, although, She had to think: that he had already figured out that the lesson was now over, and he could relax without tossing her off to do it! Their mother was hysterical. The teacher was furious - at her sister's horse, to give her credit, and not at her sister. Contrite and concerned, the instructor checked her sister's every limb and joint to be sure she was not a damaged child. Then she released her to their sobbing mother.
This was, of course, their last lesson. Their mother deemed that they were "too young, yet" to take lessons, which meant, they were correctly certain, Never Again, while in her care, forever and ever, if need be. Their Dad wasn't happy about the whole scene, and insisted that they should "get up and ride again as soon as possible:", so that they wouldn't be traumatized by horses for the rest of their born days. But, he was resigned to the certainty that those horse experiences were over for her sister and for her, since their mother truly ran the roost. They were going to have to learn again as grown-ups, if they could ever get past their Great Trauma....
Her sister did start to ride again here and there in her teens. She, like their father, was a 'natural' at riding. But she never was set enough on doing it, or even thrilled about the experience any more, it seemed. So, she rarely rode again. But the older sister. now, that was a different story.
She did ride again, with her Dad in Arizona. He was teaching kids how to ride horses. They were all disabled kids in some physical way, mainly. He loved the work! He and his new wife of a several years were snow-birding in Arizona to get away from the Illinois winters. They had a great little home in the desert to stay in, and She, the older sister and her family of kids, were visiting them. It wasn't the most comfortable of rides, but She wanted to please her Dad and have some fun on the horses...her daughter had a 'sponsored horse' and had lots of lessons under her belt, so she was riding well. She, like her grandpa, and just like the little sister, her aunt, was also a 'natural rider'. Our heroine, the older sister, was Not a Natural Rider. At all...
It was years later. She was in her fifties, and everything in her life was changing all around her and inside of her, too...She was back in school, after twenty-five years of working as an RN, and the kids were all grown. She was back in college to learn to be a teacher. So, she thought: it's time to learn to Ride....
The lessons were fun this time, with quite a catch: She was much older now, and had a 'poor seat'. Arthritis and damage from polio and scoliosis as a child, had taken their toll on her thighs, knees...it was going to be a job to learn again...but, this time, the feel of the horse under her was a completely different experience than when She had been a child...
Suddenly, she was so aware of the Animal under her body and legs, now! Every horse was distinct from the other, which She hadn't noticed ever before... They all moved differently and so easily, when you got to know them a bit. They all had wonderfully dissimilar ways of moving and relating to her and to each other and to the instructor, and the people all around, and everything in their path, and out of their path that they could sense without even seeing things there... She was starting to really Love horses, not play horses or story horses, but as wonderfully real beings, sharing, (even unwillingly, at times!) their lives with her on their backs.
She learned to groom them. how to feed them. how to warm them. how to cool them. how to water them. how to really See them. She fussed over their shoes and their hoofs. Shw checked their teeth and their mouths. their whithers, their bellies. She combed their manes and tails like a child's hair. She got to know their habits around the cinch, the bit, the reins, her poor but educated 'seat'.
She learned to trot with each animal as if She were a piece of music, counter-pointing and syncopating her body to the horse's every tweak and hoof beat...She let her heart race with the gallop. She jumped small jumps as they sprang lightly over the little fences...She was learning to Ride! The canter made her heart sing! Her whole body was alive on each horse, especially her legs... She and the English saddle and the horses were doing well!
Only a few times there were any problems. Once, her horse spooked at a rat on the side of the ring, and reared and threw her over his head! She rolled and made it out OK, and got back on, a bit shaken...the other time, She couldn't strike the horse correctly with her whip, for the hundredth time, and her instructor was upset with her. "Hit the horse. Hit with the whip!", she commanded. But, it wasn't something She could do - by nature, it seemed... So instead, for some reason, She said, "You know, I think you and my son would get along. Would you like to meet him?" and, for some reason, the instructor said yes! They actually got married thanks to her poor whip techniques! But then, in time, they had a child, and then they were divorced. Stories go on....
One day, a nice day, She met up with a friend at his farm, to ride one of his Peruvian Paso Dobles mares. The Paso is known for its 'rocking horse' gait, so She was hoping that this, her first ride out of the ring, would be a successful one. The guy was Irish, and a bit of a flirt, but She only had the horses on her mind.
They were beauties! young, frisky, but so easy on her 'seat' that She was thrilled. This was going to be a truly fun experience! Into the hills She and he went, chatting, and enjoying the fine, healthy animals they were riding...
Only a half hour or so into the ride, The Unexpected Adventure began. They were cresting a hill, and She was in the lead. Coming up the other side, very suddenly, was a herd of cows! Terrified at the sight of the horse, the cows began to run every which way! Equally terrified at the sight of the cows, her horse took off across the field! She was galloping! off the trail! with gopher holes everywhere! and, tho the reins will still firmly in her hands, and She was still 'seated', there was no way to stop this Animal at all!
All At Once, She felt very, very, very Free! She and this Wondrous Horse were One Animal. They were running in fear from a Phantom, true, but they were Running, all the same, because They Could Run. Together... She relaxed, and let her trust spread into her legs. She could feel her mount relaxing imperceptibly, into its usual casual, easy gait, then into a little frisky, more confident trot, and then into a slowing, slowing canter, and finally, into a tired, snorting walk.
Her host drew up beside her, slightly pale from worry, but smiling at her safety and the safe composure of her mount. "Well done. Well done." That was all he said. They walked the horses back to their stables to cool them, rubbed them down, and settled them in with a bit of water and mash. She thanked him for the ride, and drove home.
Soon after, it was time to end lessons and begin full-time work again. She rode a few months more in the ring, and then began to learn Dancing. Dancing began, in turn, to take up more and more of her time. Besides, money for lessons was almost out... and, given that her 'seat' was still giving her trouble and all...it was time to move on....
I suppose, if She was on a horse again, She would be happy to be riding...and, if She ever had to ride, to save her life or something, that would actually be possible...she watches her grandaughters ride at times...the little one is a natural on horses...the generations pass on...the Horses are born and trained and into the ring to Ride....
There are little girls who love horses for many, many years. There are women who love horses for just a bit of time, and then move on.... the horses are there, if She needs to be with them again...
Watching her young grandaughter brush a horse's coat, and ride so happily, (and, with a great 'seat'!) in the ring, is one of her true pleasures now.
She can remember, so easily, tho, the day in the sun, the grass, the easy gait of the Paso, the ride across the hills, with the wind in her hair and in her mount's mane...
All At Once:
Streamers of Freedom against the blue sky....
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