The Horses Of My Life -Part 4

I climbed back onto the wild beast. Mounting from the ground, on my own, for the second time in my life.

This time I was told I could hang onto the horn if I wanted to.

With the horn in my hand, my mother led the now calm pony around the field. I was scared but I trusted my mom to keep me safe if he went from cute white pony to evil rodeo bronc-demon a second time.

It was night and day. The little white pony didn't even flinch. And neither did I.

My mother breathed a sigh of relief, I still liked horses.

The trip around the field was short and uneventful. Afterward, we removed the child-sized western saddle. He had a good brush down then we released him back into the herd of horses on the other side of the cabin's fence.

The rest of the camping trip was much like any other camping trip. We roasted bananas with marshmallows and chocolate chips. But there was no more riding.

After a week in the summer comforts of the pine forest, we said goodbye to the soothing smell of pine trees and camp coffee and made our way out of the woods. I don't recall if we rode horses back or got a ride. I suspect if we had ridden back I would remember.

Once we were back at the barn where we had started our journey we learned what had gone wrong with the white pony.

Unbeknown to us there were seven white ponies in the herd. Six of whom were chuck wagon ponies that had never been ridden. Except now for the one that I had rode by mistake.

The white pony that loved kids spent his days by the gate. He eagerly awaited the weekends and time spent bringing delight to all the children who rode him.

I often wonder what would have changed in me if we had gotten the proper white pony. Would I have grown into the fearless crazy teen that rode anything? Or would I have played it safe?

This would be the first and the last time my family rode together.

When we returned to the city. Soon after tragedy struck.

At the age of three my sister was crushed by a car. My brother and I were witnesses to the horrific event.

The next year was a rollercoaster of emotion. The doctors told us she wouldn't live. But, we come from a long line of stubborn, determined women.

Even though my sister was still only a toddler she fought with that same passion.

Amanda survived, thankfully, and has grown into a strong and capable horsewoman. The part of our family that took camping trips together did not endure the hardship of the accident. A small sacrifice to pay for the life of a sibling.

After my sister had recovered from her injuries well enough to leave the city, we did. Selling the condo we lived in we packed up and moved to British Columbia.

The first place we bought was a piece of property in Windemere. It was a small cabin with land. Perfect for us to get our own horse. Or at least that's what I thought.

We were there for less than a year before we heard of a place called Nelson BC. After visiting long-time friends of my parents we found ourselves moving once again.

This move landed us in a trailer park. There was a nice yard and lots of horses locally but still no room for us to have our own horse. I did however meet my best friend who was even more horse crazy than I.