A little wall surrounds my heart…
I met the Chestnut Thoroughbred Gelding on Wednesday. He nuzzled up to me in the pasture, he allowed me to lead him to and fro the barn. I stood with him in his stall, examined his feet, ran my hands down the length of his barrel and through his tail. I averted my eyes while my mother and father examined his physical condition, looked at his teeth and inspected his legs.
I was discussing the various breeds of horses with a good friend the other night. I was explaining that my dad’s horse, an Arabian, is quick on her feet, good for sporting, but with drawbacks like a load of energy that a rider like myself would want to avoid. I explained to her that I wanted a horse who was slow, bumbling, built thick and kind of boring.
“Oh, I get it!”
“Get what?”
“Your horse. You want a slow horse, one who’s big around and not quick on his feet!”
“Yeah, that’s it!”
“Just like the people you date!”
Sure. Slow, bumbling, thick. Just like the people I date.
I go to ride him this morning. I have decided to not fall head over heels with him just this minute; I want to walk him, trott him, wonder if he is too strong for me to pull up from a spook.
When I’ve dismounted, when I walk away with muscles screaming, walking like a cow-boy, bow-legged and in search of beer: Then I’ll know if I can take down the little wall that I’ve built up, put my face to his, and call him my very own.
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