How I gave away my nice ride
I’ve noticed that I keep referring to MY Andalusian horse Caprichosa as I write, because she’s been part of my life for a long time. But, truth is, I have given away my nice ride. And it’s been over a year.
My kids love to hear the stories of how they’ve both been riding since before they were born. (Picture a very pregnant woman carried up and down the Pojoaque creek bed like fine china by a big-boned appaloosa mare.)
Our 8-year-old boy likes horses just fine. But our 9-year-old daughter loves them.
At the DNA level.
Last year, I gave Caprichosa to my daughter, because there’s so much good chemistry there. They say that every horse should belong to a little girl at some time, and Caprichosa is no exception. I doubt the mare would have ever expected that when we met over a decade ago that in our middle age we’d both be tending to children. And I never would have expected that she’d be so good at it. In a cantankerous moment, Caprichosa may not stand still for me to mount. But for J., the mare remains rooted to the ground, and doesn’t complain once as the long-legged 9-year-old literally mountain climbs up into the saddle.
This year, I have purchased gallons of Cowboy Magic, because Caprichosa is white, and J. likes to groom her up real nice. My kid never played with Barbie dolls, it takes almost a miracle to get that girl into a dress, but give her a great big horse and she’s just fine.
I don’t think you ever expect that you can love anyone as much as you love your own children. That one took me way by surprise.
Yep. I have given away my nice ride.
Flickr photos: little black book; insolvable self; MontanaRaven
