Of Girls and Horses

My best friend Christi came to visit yesterday. While she only lives about 40 minutes away, we don't see each other as often as we may like, and it's always a treat when I'm able to visit with her at any time.

We've known each other since she was 7 and I was 8. We went through elementary school and junior high together. We each had a horse, and we lived our summers out horseback riding through green pastures and dark forests. Her horse was a dark bay named Dallas, mine was a palomino named Ruler, and both of those horses had infinite patience with us two little girls who didn't know too much about anything. . . especially horseback riding.

You want to know why I still believe that magic exists in this practical, scientific world of ours? It's because I saw it all around me growing up. I don't think that our childhood could have really been more perfect. We caught frogs, climbed trees, chased snakes, put peacock feathers in our horses manes and rode them like we were on parade, splashed in the river, rescued baby birds, and laid back on tree-benches while our horses grazed in knee-deep grass to talk about everything. It would be a mistake to say that it was only the two of us . . . in reality it was the four of us, for our horses were equal companions on our Great Adventures.

This lasted for years, and ended abruptly when her father accepted a position on the other side of the state, and my father took us to live in India for some time. Within a short few months everything we'd ever known was gone. Our families had sold or packed everything, and we both had to sell our beloved horses. I don't remember who was the first to go, but I think it was Ruler. She and I gave him a final bath on that hot summer day (herbal essence shampoo and conditioner of course) took a few final pictures of him, and wept behind her house as we heard him screaming his goodbye out of the horsetrailer that took him. Dallas was next, and the ritual was the same.

The foundations of our lives shook violently, and within a month we were both gone from our childhood homes. I was on the other side of the world, and she was learning a new life in a new town.

Ruler died within a few months of him being sold. I don't think he wanted to go on. Dallas fared better for some years, but we've lost touch with the family who bought him and are pretty sure that by now he's gone too.

The river of life moves on, and there are some things that no matter how cherished and loved, simply can't continue with you.

It's amazing how bonded you become to someone who shares those kind of memories. While over time we've definitely lived our own lives, there is a part of us that is deeply connected to each other. Now, here we are, both adults, and both still good friends. Christi told me yesterday that she's picking up and moving to the east coast this fall, and while that makes me sad, at the same time I'm not overly worried about it. Life has contrived to take me thousands and thousands of miles away from her, and I ended up a mere 30 miles away some years later.

I have no doubt that the same thing will happen again in time, for I don't believe our adventures are yet over.