I don't know that I'll ever understand her love for horses, but I know one thing for sure: My heart pitter-pats when I look at my little wonder. May all of your dreams come true.
She helped brush the horses. Chrissy, daughter of the horse owner, was patient and kind as she taught my girl what to do.
My daughter is one of those girls, the ones I never understood. I used to think their love for horses was contrived--born out of some kind of need to be accepted by her peers. It's not that I dislike horses; goodness knows Levi and I watched Man From Snowy River enough that I appreciate their beauty and power. I've also been riding enough to know that it is fun and freeing.
But it's that whole animal thing. I just don't get it. I think I should have been a farmer--the kind who named the steer Food and the pig Breakfast. You see people who let their dogs lick their face, rub their checks all over the horses' dirty muzzle and scratch their fingers into the cats' filthy fur. Yuck. Again, I appreciate animals, I can see how they are good companions and faithful friends, but I have never had a love affair.
Now that I am raising this daughter, I recognize that it is not contrived. Her love for horses has lasted for three or four years (and she is only eight). Her blog, for instance, is covered in horse pictures. She has horse clothes, posters on her walls, when she draws, she draws horses, and she collects horse figurines.
Yesterday, despite many failed attempts, I finally got her on the back of a horse.
(She is very shy so she has a hard time showing emotion in public, but this is her I'm-about-to-explode-from-joy face.)She was quaking with excitement.
(Look how little she is--not even close to the stirrups.)