Once upon a time, twenty-something years ago, my mother was pregnant with me at the same time as one of her horses was pregnant. Cally, my “twin sister” was born 11 days before me (and all these years later, we still have her). My (or should I say “our”) first birthday cake was decorated with her likeness in frosting. I rode horses my entire childhood, collected horse statues, and even went to horse camp. If that wasn’t enough, my mom bought me my own horse for my ninth birthday (but it ended up being crazy and we had to sell him). Oh yeah, and did I mention my mom is a mustang trainer?
So basically, it surprises most people to hear that I don’t really like horses. I mean, they’re pretty when they run, but that about sums up my feelings towards them. I used to adore them, but somewhere along the line (in my angsty teenage years to be exact), I quit loving them. I actually grew to despise them. There are a lot of reasons why, but mostly I can chock it up to being an angsty, rebellious teenager. I no longer despise horses, but I am pretty indifferent to them, and I definitely don’t like riding them. And needless to say, saying that is like stabbing my mother through the heart.
But today my mother would be proud. Because today, I had a moment. I had just walked a mile through mud to take a photo of a horse named Jiji. But when I got to her pasture, she was being a pain in the ass and hanging out in bad light. So while I waited for her to move, Rusty came up to smell me. He chewed on my pant legs and slobbered on my shirt. I pet his nose and rubbed his ears. And as we stood there (in magnificent light, might I add), I felt a little connection with Rusty that has usually always been reserved for cats or dogs, or maybe birds, but never horses. For a moment (and a moment only), horses suddenly made sense to me. But then the moment was over. Sorry mom.
In honor of this short-lived moment (which I’m sure there will be more of in the coming months), here are couple horse photos from this week.
by Sarah
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