Yesterday I had a riding lesson scheduled and the lesson fell on the exact hour my mom died one week earlier. There is something about the first week, the first month, the first year. I got to the barn and decided I'd ride and if it felt real off, I'd dismount. I had a very good lesson, worked on some collection stuff and made good strides.
Boone's 15th birthday fell on the same day my mom died last week. It seemed depressing at first, his birthday would now be tied to that shocking day. But, after riding I realized I could change my perspective - Boone was tied to that day as a gift and a reminder. My mom worked hard her whole life and was able to give me riding lessons when I was around ten. She would drive me over an hour each way so I could ride weekly. My brother complained the whole way with his little scientific journals he was most likely reading in the back seat. I never got my horse as a girl or a teenager - but I'm grateful for all those lessons. My parents did what they could to feed my little soul.
Boone is a reminder I am living my dream, and I had a good beginning and nurturing to grow my own wings.
