I am a horse person. I can remember the very day and event that is forever etched in time as the moment I became a crazy horse person. A neighborhood picnic at which pony rides were given in exchange for a purchased ticket. It wasn’t a pony ride. My parents never purchased a ticket to exchange for a ride. It happened afterwards.
My father was in charge of the ticket sales for the pony rides and a couple of other attractions. I stood watching the ponies being loaded onto the trailer as my dad talked to the owner. “Would you like to pet the pony?” the man asked me. I had longed to ride a pony all day and now I had the chance to touch one. I shyly nodded my head. He walked in my direction leading a dark brown pony. “This is Daisy, ”
Daisy. My heart raced between being excited and being scared. I had never been near a pony before, but I thought she was beautiful. He explained where I could pet her so t hat she wouldn’t feel scared. As I ran my hand over her long neck, I was surprised to feel her warmth and the smoothness of her hair. “Would you like to sit on her?” I peered into his face in disbelief. Again I nodded. My father lifted me onto her warm back. He instructed me to hold onto her mane and then slowly led Daisy around the parking lot. I looked at my dad with a smile that I’m sure was reflected back to me in his.
As we made our way back to my dad waiting at the trailer, I felt something I wouldn’t know until later was the beginning of a love affair that would last the rest of my life. “Thank the man,” Dad instructed.
“Thank you,” I said. He ruffled my hair.
Later, as I sat in the back seat of the old Fairlane 500 heading home, I noticed the sweet horse smell. A combination of sweat, hay, and manure. A smell that I loved. I was that person. A crazy horse person.