Between my daughter’s wedding, Christmas, a blizzard in the
Pocono Mountains and the upcoming deployment of my son to the
Middle East, there is no ambiguity.
Between my daughter’s wedding, Christmas, a blizzard in the Pocono Mountains and the upcoming deployment of my son to the Middle East, there is no ambiguity. My two-week absence from work was not a vacation, but a madhouse of emotions shrouded with moments of utter exasperation.
All I wanted to do was get away. Find a horse, ride into the wide-open spaces, pretending we were all in another place in a time where all is fine with the world.
It occurred to me that as individuals, my daughters and I loved riding horses but we never rode together as a family. This taste of regret offended me. Delirious, I wished they were young children again, but that thought only lasted a few seconds – “What the hell am I thinking?” I barely survived their puberty. If I had to go through it again I’d lose.
For a young girl living in the suburbs of Detroit during the 1950s there wasn’t much farm land around. Most of it was concrete-filled and matchbox homes where baby boomers were growing up. The only horses I got to see up close belonged to the Detroit Mounted Police.
Almost any young girl who ever met a horse will attest to her love and beg her parents, “Please, can I have one?” I was no different.
From that first unexpected sloppy-slurp bath of a kiss, I knew I wanted a horse. I was going to have a ranch and be a cowgirl, but without the cows. I begged my mother for a horse, which I realize was a very unreasonable request, but I was 6 years old.
“You can’t keep a horse in a back yard. Besides, we can’t afford one,” my mother tried to reason with me. “You wait until you grow up and you have your own place. Then get a horse.”
Over the years, I’d forgotten my dream ranch and was living in a city with children of my own. While searching for the right school for my brood, I discovered that Ojai Valley Boarding School not only boarded children, but horses too.
It was a chance of a lifetime for me to create a pleasurable memory that would remain with them forever.
Like all parents, I wanted to give my children something I did not have as a child – an opportunity to learn how to ride and compete. I was vicariously living my dream through my daughters and they were gaining experience.
It was amazing watching my little girls handle these creatures weighing over 1,000 pounds that could easily crush them, but I knew the way they handled their horses they understood the magnitude of horsepower. I also learned my daughter was giving me a line of horsespit.
It took almost a full year before we caught on, but Nicole so loved horses she intentionally did something wrong that required consequences. She was being punished and was sent to muck out the stalls, but then she refused to come home on weekends.
“I can’t come home. I have to stay here and help clean out the stables because I didn’t do my homework,” she said. “But that’s okay – I like mucking.”
That’s when it hit me – “This is not punishment.” I had to explain to her teachers that while most girls didn’t like cleaning horse dung, my daughter did. “Keep her out of the barn.”
Last year my dream ranch finally came true. I have my horse with lots of land to ride, but I have learned mom was right – it does cost a lot of money to care for a horse, even if it’s a free horse, which is an oxymoron. (It cost how much for the West Nile virus vaccination?)
Still, it was up to me that blustery morning to seize the day. Whether my daughters wanted it or not, we were going to make a family memory and we were going horseback riding. I will not be denied my memories.
The joy of going horseback riding with my daughters was not a hard sell at all. My girls were no different than me.
“You twisted our arms,” my daughter chimed. “We would love to go riding.”
“Of course you do,” I said. “I remember getting the bills.”
