Looking Back..

     

         Now that I am eighteen, it seems like ages ago that I moved in with my dad. What had started as a nightmare, has turned out to be the best childhood anyone could ask for. I have met a lot of people and found something that I love. When I was little, my dad would always ask me, "Are you going to sit up there and ride?" That quote has been one that has not only stuck with me, but followed me. My dad still tells me this every time I get ready to show. Showing horses has brought me and my dad closer then I could ever imagine. Actually sitting back and thinking about our old relationship makes me tear up. My dad has been the most amazing friend, parent, and sometimes girlfriend. Every step of growing up he has been there. Whether it was my first date, learning to make pancakes, graduation, or going into a chocolate induced coma over a boy, he has always been there. If I could go back and do this all again, I wouldn't change a thing. My journey through the small portion of life I have lived, has made me who I am today. It's tough to raise a teenage girl by yourself, but hey, I turned out pretty dang good.

Show Time

Whoever,

        I was counting the days down, 5 days, 4 days, 3 days, and eventually counting the hours. We had not even left for the show yet and I was already thinking there was no way I could do this. I was scared that I was going to mess up, or fall off, or who knows what. My mind was racing a thousand thoughts per minute of all the bad things that could happen in front of the crowd. I wanted everyone to look at me flying around the ring and think to themselves, wow that girl can really ride. Most of all I wanted my dad to be proud of me. So, the time came and we loaded up the horses to go to Harriman, Tennessee to what they call the Smokey Mountain Classic. It seemed like no time and we were there. (Probably because I fell asleep after ten minutes in the car).When I got out of the truck the hot air hit me like a train and my sunglasses fogged up. The smell of popcorn and concession food mixed with horses filled the air. After registering the horses it was time for me to get dressed. I was excited to put on my outfit, after all it was my first show suit. It was a white button up shirt, with a pink vest and a black tie. My pants, coat, and hat were all black, and made me look professional my dad said. After going through World War III with my vest I got in on, and was ready to go. I walked over and got on my horse as I had done a million times before, only this time was different. I wasn't going to be able to stop if I lost a stirrup, or take a break, this was it. It was game time. I kept telling my dad that I wasn't ready for this but he reassured me that I was only here to have fun. If his idea of fun was not knowing if you were going to throw up or pass out first, then he was crazy. The announcer rang over the speakers and announced the gate call for my class.

"Juvenile Walking Specialty this is your gate call, bring em on please," it said.

Oh, man can I really do this; I can remember thinking as I went into the ring. I went in right behind a boy that was about my age. He looked just as scared as I was. I turned around to see if my dad was still at the gate, and of course he was. He gave me and thumbs up and a smile, and away I went. We went from a flat walk to a running walk and reversed. The feeling of being on top of such a powerful animal is so exhilarating. Then air blows through your hair, you can hear each foot hit the ground, and it almost feels like your flying. This is a high that to this day I am still addicted to. It's something that I too hope to share with my children someday. You can still find me showing horses every Saturday night, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Calling it Home..

Everyone,
   The next few days were full of boring stuff, like registering for school, school shopping, and painting my room. When I got settled in permanently my mom went back to Indiana. It didn't take long for me to start getting homesick. I think it was the fact that I knew I was going to stay down there that scared me the most. At a time like this I knew exactly what I needed. As soon as I walked into the barn Santana was there to greet me at his stall. Since I was going to stay, I was also going to start showing performance horses. In everyday terms, the ones that "step high." My first show was the weekend after my first week of school, and boy was I nervous.

Summer Ended..

Fans and Colleagues,
        The summer that I thought was going to last a time life flew by. It was filled with adventures Santana and I took, horse shows on the weekends, and pancakes. When my mom pulled up in the driveway I was nowhere near ready to leave. I cried and pouted, but nothing was going to stop the inevitable. I was going back to the city with my mom and that was that. We drove to Louisville, Kentucky (which is half way) and stopped at the golden arches to get a quick bite to eat. I had already made up my mind that I was not getting out of the car when we passed the food sign for the exit. My mom pleaded and begged for me to come in with her but finally gave up. She went in and ordered food, all the time keeping an eye out for the kidnappers, and pedophiles that she said would get me if I didn't come in. Finally after eight-teen (yes exactly eight-teen) minutes she came out. We sat in the car in complete silence. While I was debating on whether I was going to ever talk to her again, she interrupted my train of thought.
"Do you want me to take you back?" she said. I could tell in her voice that she was hoping I would say no. She said it slowly with a slight crack in her voice. She knew the answer to the question before she even asked it.
"Please," said looking at her.
And so began the four hour drive back to the place I would call home.

Santana

Friends and Stalkers,
       The next morning, I awoke to the smell of pancakes cooking. I got up and still half asleep staggered to the kitchen. I was starting to think that this might not be so bad. I could sleep in and wake up to my favorite breakfast every day. After I ate, well over enough to make me full, my dad informed me that we are going riding. What a surprise, not. Although I knew that it was coming, I was not enthused by the idea. But whatever, it beats sitting in princess-utopia all day. By the time I got dressed my dad was already out in the barn saddling up horses. I walked out there expecting to see the same little old pony, named Jake, that I had rode for as long as I could remember. Instead there was a huge black horse. This horse was a giant. He was 16 hands of muscle, with a jet black mane and tail. Looking at him I was almost intimidated. The animal standing before me had the power to kill someone, but could also leave a print on your heart that would last a lifetime. By the time my dad put his bridle on; I could barely wait to get up there. I didn't really know what I was going to do after that though. Maybe sit there, and enjoy to view from so high up, or take off in a gallop through the pasture, or most likely wait on my dad. I tried so hard to get up there by myself, but I just wasn't big enough. With a little boost from my dad I landed on top of my new best friend.
       During that day we rode through the fields, and down various trails in the woods. Never once did Santana (No, I didn't name him) spook, or not listen. It was almost like he was taking care of me. I don't know what came over me that day, or that week, or even that month, but I had made up my mind that down here was where I wanted to be.

Every horse derserves to be loved by a child..

Internet World,
         So my mom gets ready to leave, does the whole crying thing, and heads back to Indiana. Leaving me here, for two never-ending months (dun dun dun). "Come on sis," my dad said and led me down the hall to the back bedroom. He opened the door to reveal the same pink princess paradise that had welcomed me since I was 4. It was complete with a canopy bed, a pink toy castle, and a white unicorn rocking horse. The only thing that had changed was that I had now upgraded to a "big kid bed." I sighed and let my Lizzie McGuire backpack fall on the pink carpet. When I was younger I didn't really mind coming down here. I had fun riding horses everyday and showing in the shows on the weekends. Somewhere in the midst school, and sports, I had lost my passion for horses. An old saying says that every horse deserves to be loved by a child. It really is a different kind of love. It's a bond of friendship and trust that you can't understand unless you experience it. Little did I know, but that summer would be one I would never forget.

In the Beginning...

Dear Blogger Community,
          Every horse owner has their own story about the first horse they bought. Some of them get one for their birthday, and some of them have to work their entire lives to own horses.  I am just lucky enough to have been born into the middle of the Tennessee Walking Horse Industry. I say that like I have been around horses all my life, but that's the thing, I haven't. It all started when I was 10. During the summer my mom and I would make the long, hot, better described as awful drive to what I called "Hillbilly Hill." It would take eight hours of pretty much non-stop butt numbing riding in the car. That sounds pretty bad, but when you add the racket that people call classical music in to the equation, it is enough to make you want to jump out of the window. After passing around 2,000 Waffle Houses and Huddle Houses we would arrived in what the locals call Cookeville, Tennessee. Oh so much fun, I could imagine having here. Between having no shopping mall, and the fact that it is taken over by rednecks, I didn't know where to start. Well actually, I did know where to start. I was heading straight down to my dad's house, thanks to my mom. I knew we were getting close when we turned off the interstate, onto a gravel road. I was on the verge of seeing the pizza we ate three hours earlier when we drove into the wrap around driveway. The house looked just as it did in the years past. The off-white paint was starting to chip off, and the windows had streaks down them from dad's infamous spring cleaning. The steps still creaked and cracked when I walked up them, and dad's three legged black lab, Boomer, was predictably laying on the porch. My dad came out of the red barn behind the house, using his hand as a visor for the sun. His skin was soaked with sweat; his shirt (which I am assuming was white this morning) was now all didn’t colors of black. It was okay though, because this was my dad. I would have been surprised to see him any other way.  It just so happens that my dad is a World Champion walking horse trainer. It sounds a little exciting to someone who doesn't know what it really means. For me it meant a long summer spent in a 200 degree barn full of horse poop, flies, and people who don't speak anywhere near proper English. Now don't get me wrong, I miss my dad through the school year, but this is not my idea of a summer vacation.

The Farm