My fascination with horses began before I was even big enough to ride one. Walls plastered with posters of unicorns and Pegasus and shelves filled to overflowing with ceramic figurines of the same, I was a toddler enthralled with the graceful beauty and wild magic of the creatures. Galloping about on hands and knees with a colorful towel or blanket tucked into the back of my pants for a tail, I played even at being one, so it seemed only a matter of course when my parents took me to a stable for the first time.“All horses deserve, at least once in their lives, to be loved by a little girl.”
I was five or so the year my parents decided it was time for
my siblings and me to start “lessons” of one kind or another - piano for my
sister, basketball for my brother, and horseback riding for me. It was not long after we had moved from the sprawling
metropolis of Chicago, Illinois, where we lived on an active fire lane on the
west side of the city to the quiet, rolling country foothills of Inman, South
Carolina. The stable was brilliant white
with black trim, shining in the sun as though it had only just been
painted. Acres of rolling green pastures
surrounded the quiet, manicured rings circled with white picket-style
fences. I could see clusters of horses
off in the distance, grazing serenely, tails swishing and glossy coats
reflecting the sun. It was so
picturesque, so patently cliché, that I smile to recall the memory of it
now.
I rode for several years at that riding school, studying
English style riding and horsemanship, and though I was young the memories of
that time remain even to this day in vivid clarity. When we moved for my father’s job some years
later farther upstate, I was desperate to continue riding, at this point my
head and heart filled with ambitions of a life spent in the saddle riding
professionally. But though still in a
rather remote area, there were no stables within reasonable driving distance
that taught English riding. For a while
I rode privately under the instruction of a 4H coach, but eventually even that
arrangement crumbled. Bereft of a
lifelong passion, I turned to the comfort of my art and with not an
insignificant degree of personal grief, relinquished my childhood fantasies
of being a professional equestrian.
Over the past ten or fifteen years, I have sought out riding
many times, but for one reason or another each attempt fell through…until
recently. Through the emphatic
encouragement of my boyfriend, I decided to try once again, so I located a
school, scheduled a trial ride, and for the first time in many years mounted
again three days ago. The feeling was
indescribably poignant. It was like
coming home.
The intention of this blog is to catalog my journey with
riding from this point forward. Though
not a novice, I hope to share my experiences, feelings, growth, and
education. To offer new riders a glimpse
of what might be in store for them and to old riders a fond sense of kinship
over shared understanding.
