Free longing
J. stands in the center of the round pen. Holding a longe whip that can be unwieldy for most grownups, let alone a determined little girl of nine. Caprichosa stands quietly on the outside of the circle, neck arched, black eyes two liquid pools of light, tail swishing back and forth slowly slowly, ears pricked at her kid, mildly surprised to see this little one in the middle of the twenty-meter circle.
We’ve practiced this—
I am Caprichosa. J. is the longer.
I’ve showed J. how to hold the whip, move her body, snap her eyes on the horse’s eyes, when to lower them, soften her stance, round her shoulders.
I trot around and around the pen until I am breathless, huffing and puffing, having J. turn me to the left and then to the right. Sometimes I am disagreeable like I know Cap can be (at least for me). I throw in a few full-of-myself bucks for good measure. I ignore the longer and refuse to stop a couple of times. I speed up, requiring J. to calm me down to a slow trot with her voice, saying, “Eeeaaassy. Eeeeeeaaaaaassy.” As J. slows me down, I think about joining up and then my attention gets caught by something else—look, there’s Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler strolling over to watch—at which point I shout, “J., I’m not paying any attention to you! Send me back out onto the circle!”
For the record, ol’ mom can be quite a challenging equine.
Now it’s for real. No more pretend. I remind myself that J. practically begged me to let her do this. I'm trusting Cap to be in her best babysitting frame of mind. I stand outside the round pen.
J. sends Cap out at a trot on the left rein. Her arms are wide, the whip clasped in her small right hand, pointed at the horse’s hocks. Behind the freckles, she is pure determination. Caprichosa shakes her head, briefly cranky, but decides to mind and manages two complete circles around her nine-year-old girl. J. asks her to stop. Change direction. And on it goes. It’s not perfect, but it’s a beautiful dance between girl and horse. Even though my J. is all knees and elbows.
I’m practically singing, “You’re dancing, J! You’re dancing with her!”
We have join up.
J. drops the whip and lowers her eyes. Cap stops and waits expectantly, then walks towards her, nuzzles her lanky arm. J.’s smile says it all. She may not be very big on the outside, but at this moment, she is simply enormous inside.
And she can take that knowing with her wherever she goes.
Flickr photos by: ashleigh44; ashleigh44; ashleigh44
