Thursday, April 22, 2010

Horse Highlights

Daughter always looks forward to Wednesdays. Wednesdays equals horseback riding. When weather forces us to cancel, she is always disappointed. Wednesday afternoon is her favorite part of the week.

Yesterday we arrived at the barn earlier than Nancy and her daughter, C. Daughter caught her horse, prepared to ride, then headed to the arena.

The three of us arrived at the arena. Our instructor made sure Daughter was safely on, then left to help Nancy and C get ready.

She turned to me and said,"Okay, mom. You're in charge."

"That's scary, but alright," I said with a wink.

Our instructor walked the short distance back to the barn and I sat on the little stool as Daughter rode. As soon as she gets on the horse, she is in her own world. She listens for instruction, but everything else is shut out.

As she walked her horse around the arena, I watched. And listened. I have no idea what she was saying, but she was sharing something incredible with her horse. I could hear the emotion, the giggles, and the inflections in her voice. With every step, she shared something else. The horse's ears turned and listened as my daughter rode.

It reminded me of my visits to the hairdresser. I share my life's moments as she wraps my hair in foil. After she's done wonders, she shampoos and I keep talking. My hairdresser wraps my head in a towel and I plop down in the chair, where I chatter away as she reveals those necessary highlights.

Most hairdressers are patient with us as we tell them everything, but the truth is, they are tired. They really would like to work in peace in quiet. I'm probably the tenth customer of the day who shares her life.

Horses are different. They prick their ears and walk or trot or lope along. They listen intently as they work, capturing a moment with the rider who loves them.

Of course, I love my hairdresser. Who else could work miracles with this hair of mine? But nothing compares to the love a girl has for her horse.

No highlights could ever trump that.


Carpool Queen said...

What is it about sitting in that chair that makes us want to gab about everything?

I think it's the Southern in us. It's truly genetic.

Roxanne said...

Love this post. . .imagining your girl chatting away to her horse. . .