Horses are very important to me and they always have been.  I love the way they look, the way they move, the way they smell.  I love their soft noses, their mirror-like eyes, and the way they know what you’re thinking.  They are kind, honest creatures- much unlike humans.  They do not judge, they don’t care what your label is, and they don’t care how much money you make, or if you live with your parents.  They care about how you ride, if you ride, and their basic needs.  If you take care of them, they will take care of you.  They’re amazing, beautiful creatures.

I rode horses regularly from when I was eight-years-old up until I was 16.  I can remember the name of each horse I’ve ever ridden and their personality.  Cheval was a grumpy, red horse.  Butkus didn’t like being near other horses.  Field was a beautiful grey Arabian who lost his best friend to a lightning strike.  The electricity went through Charlie and paralyzed one side of Field.  I rode him once, but he was my favorite.  Juice and I were buddies.  He taught me to jump and really helped me become a balanced rider.   He was the first and only horse I’ve ever fallen off.  I loved Winton, even though he seemed to always be disappointed when I brought him his tack.
Dallas was another favorite.  He seemed to tolerate me very well.
I rode Domino and Tara at camp.  Both of them had babies, which made me consider that the camp was not the best place for horses or people.
I was completely horse crazy.  I read books about horses, watched movies about horses, dreamed about horses…  they were a part of who I was.