When my parents got married, one of the first things my dad bought my mother was a horse.
And a piano.
My grandpa would never buy her one, even though they lived on a farm and had ample room for a horse. She never had one for herself.
So my dad bought her one.
They probably went hungry for month to have him… but if I know them well enough, they would have rather had the horse than the food.
His name was Commanche. He was huge. At least to me he was. He was still around when I was a little girl and I rode him (never alone) as well.
My mom was one of those little girls who always dreamed of horses. You know, the ones who read the Black Beauty and Flicka over and over. She was one of those.
I was not one of those little girls. I didn’t even really play with My Little Ponies.
(But I did play the piano)
And my son… is not really one of those little boys either.
He loves his cowboy hat. And his boots. But…. really, he would rather be playing with the frogs and salamanders down the way.
But we both love seeing her horses and watching them ride and help brush them and ride in the carriage. And smelling the smells. And hearing her stories. We love to see her happy…..and these beautiful creatures sure do make her happy.