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Remembering the Gallop

Wildlight, Jane Barefoot Rochelle
Wildlight, Jane Barefoot Rochelle

I’d never ridden a horse by myself before.  I’d ben led around by the reins by my cousins … on big horses like Nip, and Ike.  Horses that both fascinated and terrified me.  But never by myself.

Penny was a brown mare.  An old girl, who belonged to my mother’s long-time friend, Thera Jean.

Thera Jean lit up the room, simply by stepping in.  Her eyes smiled, her words were candid and kind, her wisdom, was of the earth.  She was a dear friend of my mothers for as long as I can remember.

I knew Thera Jean when I was a little girl, and then knew her again as a young adult … when her daughter, Carolyn, and I worked together at Mr. Duis’s plant nursery.

I told Carolyn I’d love to come see the horses again.  She kindly invited me out for a ride.

Carolyn pulled on her leather boots as we chatted on the back stoop.  Her mother’s sweet smile shining, right there on her daughter’s face.

A single sunflower seedling reached for the sun from it’s small pot at the edge of the stoop.  It’s what happens after a good seed-spitting session, sometimes, apparently.  I wondered at the improbability of such a thing, then my thoughts whizzed back to the horses waiting nearby.  That old feeling of terror and delight simmered under my surface, horseflies and all.  But I wanted to ride, and once I make up my mind about something, there’s little to stop me.

In the shadow of the milky-white barn and towering silos, Penny resisted the tugs on her saddle, holding her breath to keep the leather straps from feeling tight on her belly.  “Please exhale, Penny”, I prayed, fearing the saddle slipping around and dumping me onto the ground.

After a good exhale on both our parts, and double-checking all forms of saddlry on Carolyn’s part, she helped me into the stirrup and over the saddle.  I was on, all by myself.

The horses carried us gently across the front lawn.  The old farm stood proudly on the hillside, a familiar sight on the drive to the Bedford County Lake, where mom took us to swim on hot summer days.  I’d surely played in that front yard as a child.  Under the trees we lumbered.  Penny, sweet old girl.  I was riding, all by myself.

“They get excited when they see the gate”, Carolyn sang.  “They love the pasture.  They’ll start trotting toward the gate.  Hold on with your knees.  Use your legs to stay in the saddle.”  Yep, that’s what she said.

Knees, legs, saddle.  I’ve got this.  The gate came into view.  The lumber turned into a trot, and I was okay. Carolyn’s golden strawberry hair glistened in the sunshine as she dismounted and opened the gate, and apparently pushed the autopilot button, just out of my view.

Penny’s spirit surged with excitement.  We trotted and galloped around the meadows … grasses and wildflowers rushing under her swift hooves.  I held on for dear life … my legs were strong.  My bottom half attached around Penny’s wide girth and my top half desperately hanging onto the saddle horn.  Not knowing whether to laugh or scream, I likely did a fair amount of both.  Probably simultaneously.

Carolyn called back, “Are you okay?”  Yeah, I was okay.   What other answer could I give at that point.  I was.  I really was.  However ungraceful, I was riding a horse all by myself.

I was the last person to ride sweet Penny.  She died not long after that.  She was an old girl, who had given Thera Jean many years of riding love.  Then some years later, Thera Jean’s smiling eyes closed for the last time, too, as she left this world for the next.

And once upon a time, I rode a galloping mare … there was Penny, and there was Thera Jean, and there were wildflowers in the sunshine.

Bedford County, Virginia
Summer, 1996
(work in progress)

Take special good care ~
Love,

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5 Comments

  1. Carolyn Craun Hawkins Carolyn Craun Hawkins

    Oh sweet Jane! I can barely see through the tears streaming down my cheeks as I attempt to write you a heartfelt ‘thanks’. There are not enough words to tell you what this ‘Step’ back in time means to me as it fills my heart and makes me give a hearty laugh of our adventurous day! What a gift you have – and thank you for sharing!

    Much love,
    Carolyn

    • They say we should cry at-least once a day … reading how much this meant to you brought tears to my eyes, as well. Thank you. I woke up yesterday morning with an real tug to write this, and only today had a chance to do so. I will likely edit it as time goes on. The intention was to write about riding with you, but what a joy to spend some time thinking of your beautiful mother, too. That period was a wonderful time in my life.

      This is the first of many memoir pieces to come. I look forward to recalling such details about many experiences I’ve been lucky-enough to have. When we hold a thought in our heart and mind, it changes our body, mind, and spirit. Our body chemistry changes. Today, my body chemistry shifted to love, gratitude, and such peace in that beautiful place. (and please forgive me for not asking permission before I posted it. I realized later I should have)
      Thank you for the lessons ~ and much love to you,
      Jane

  2. Sally Rowe Sally Rowe

    Another beautiful writing. You should write a book

  3. great story! i felt like i was right there with you on that horse. the visuals are amazing. i want to know more about the ride, be on it longer with you…were the horsed talking to each other? making sounds? what did you smell? i want it be longer, it’s a work in progress i know. great job Jane.

  4. Nancy Brennan Nancy Brennan

    Jane, I loved your story. It definitely tugged at my heart. And it also brought up a time when I was using my mountain bike for actual mountain trail biking at the experimental forest near the Arboretum. I was with Chris, a somewhat daredevil of a friend, who led the way on a steep path with lots of thick roots and going downhill. You can probably imagine what happened. I thought I was surely going to die and at least fall off my bike and break a few bones. I think that was one of those “God dammit” prayers as I kept screaming “oh God” all the way down. Since I’m here relating this you know I survived. Those “God dammit” prayers really work. Thanks so much for sharing your story and giving me the chance to bring up an old memory. Taking good care always! Love, Nancy

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