All the Pretty Horses

I can't remember a time when I did not love horses. I grew up around horses so when I wasn't actually riding them I was pretending that I was, and if I wasn't pretending that I was riding I was pretending I was the horse itself. I loved horses of every color, black, chestnut, white, grey, buckskin. Horses galloped through both my waking and sleeping dreams, and I found horses doodled across all my notebooks from school. When we sold our last three horses before my parents moved to Mexico I was devestated. I was in school when one of my teachers (we all know each other well since it is such a small community)pulled me out of class and handed me a check for the three horses. He assured me they would not come to get them until the evening, but when I returned from school the fields were empty. I thought the grass looked lonely as it swayed in the breeze. All I could think of was that I did not have a chance to say goodbye. Not to Sundowner the clever and often naughty little pony, or May who despite her lazy and cold manner I had come to love, or even to Shaker with his crooked feet and homely face who loved his ears to be scratched. It has now been five years since a horse of my own as been in these fields and earlier this summer I convinced my mom to buy a cheap horse that I had discovered. He has turned out to be more of a project than I bargained for. Despite the fact that he is nearly unrideable and has been christened "Bucky" as a result, it still feels good to have a horse of my own. Here are a few pictures of my years with horses.