I don’t know why my mom was crying.  I can’t remember. 

If I think about it, though, I would say this:  she was crying because she was so young.  She was 20 or 21 with 2 kids.  Her husband was off on a tour in the Navy.  She had the weight of the world upon her slight shoulders.  She was 3000 miles from her family.  She felt alone.  She was scared.  She was overwhelmed.

—

Little girls and horses

I’ve heard that it’s a common theme for little girls to love ponies and horses.  We all wanted one when we were younger, didn’t we?

I don’t know if that’s true for everyone.

For me, it was definitely true.  I wanted a horse.  I’ve wanted a horse for as long as I can remember.  I don’t even know why.  They fascinate me.  They capture me with their strength, their size, their stature.  They seem regal to me.

They are the animals of all of the books I’ve read my entire life.  They pulled the carriages and they carried the heroes on their backs.  They were cared for lovingly and combed with care.  I could smell the horses when they were described in books.

When I was 10 or 11, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  It was a beautiful summer day in Missoula, Montana.  The sun was shining.  The morning glories had opened their lovely white petals to welcome the day.

I found out that someone had a shetland pony for sale.  I wanted it.  I wanted it so badly that I would do anything for that pony.

The pony had a halter and a rope attached to that halter.  She liked me.  She followed me easily.

I walked her up to my house.

I yelled to my mom to come outside.

“Mom.  She’s only $100.  Can I PLEASE have her?  I need her.  I love her.  She loves me.  Please?  Please, Mom?”

I have no idea what went through my mom’s mind at that moment.  I suppose I may have looked earnest (and I was).  I suppose I may have been a bit forceful.  I’m sure it was distressing.

We were poor.  The meat we ate came from the hunts my dad went on.  The vegetables we ate came from the garden we all tilled and weeded.

A horse was a luxury that could not be afforded.

But she was ONLY $100.

I remember that so clearly.  I also remember so clearly what my mom said.

“She may only be $100.  However, it will cost that much to feed her every week.  That’s $400 a month.  That’s money we don’t have.”

I was devastated.  My dream was shattered.  This pony loved me.  I loved her.

I think I felt a little lost.  I remember feeling so incredibly sad.

I took that pony back home but it was not the end of my fascination with horses.

I think that I found ways to try to fill the disappointment of not getting that pony. 

And that is a story for tomorrow…