A captive rope

   

Photo taken by Regina Brecha

 Pulling on a pair of mud caked boots, lacing the strings, then pulling a half chap over it, fighting the zipper to close over a taught calf muscle, and break through the dried mud on the plastic teeth. Swinging a quilted green jacket from a chair and deftly sliding my arms through the sleeves the act letting a strong smell of horse through the air bringing a smile, that comforting familiar sent. Stuffing pockets with snacks, phone, keys,  gloves and everything else till bulging and then striding out the door a skip in my step.
    This isn't one specific day, but could be any spaced over the last two weeks, all towards the evening after the the long tedious hours at my cafe job, letting my body and mind ease into the simple bliss of going to the barn. A time when physical pain and the ticking clock slips by unseen, despite its surely being there. I've been preparing for a horse show, something I haven't done in my life despite years of riding, although the last five or so have been altogether informal bareback, rescue ponies, light trail rides, the like. This is very different: struggling to count strides to a jump, perfecting the posture as my horse lifts his knees to fly through the air "calves hugging the saddle, butt back, shoulders up, belly button down and in front, eyes forward, hands in contact, back slightly curved..." and then you get to the decent. My partner in crime is a beautiful grey (white) gelding named Astro, a seasoned show horse who knows far more then I, but has his lazy side. While I have spent many years riding on top of numerous horses this is a very different situation, over the course of the last few weeks we have both evolved, him from a semi retired pasture horse, and I from a casual bareback rider. We're learning about each other, and forming a bond the like i've never had with a horse. Not one of treats and attention, but one of partners, both to achieve something. Hard practice sessions interspersed with moments I can only define as friendship, a walk around the pond in the setting sun, long grooming sessions, discussions over if there is in fact an alligator hiding in the puddle by his pasture gate.
    The show is one week away, and while I am going for the experience alone, the excitement still builds. Despite this there is some strife, besides the simple exhaustion. When one prepares to turn 18 they think it is though by magic they are suddenly adult and independent, but unfortunately that is far from the case. Instead I feel a lurking guilt about not being a better sister or daughter, mixed deeply in with a desire to just focus on myself, my own interests. While writing that out I sound absurdly selfish, and I suppose I am. Its something I'll have to find a balance of, but while I logically know that I should heed my parents seemingly simple requests they seem so utterly bothersome, my mind tells me its time to strike out, be on my own, think for my own logic, and yet that is not that case and finding this and going back to it is more difficult then one can possibly imagine. That... rope that still has one neatly bound to ones family let loose, but only till the end of a leash. Of course, staying with parents and living with them is the best thing to do at still such a young age, the necessity of learning how to cope with what feels like captivity to the late teenage mind, even when given almost total free rein, that final matter that one thing in which you are jerked back and reminded you are not quite alone feels like simply too much frustration to endure. I suppose its all a matter of adjustment, and growing up, a period in one's life. And thankful for me for having some place of wishes and dreams to spend a few hours of each day in timeless bliss. More updates soon!