Cora Jo has wanted a horse for quite some time.
*spoiler alert: she will not be getting a horse at the end of this post.*
I imagined that it was a fleeting obsession that would come and go with the motorized hamsters. This past spring she made it abundantly clear that she wanted to learn to ride a horse, even if the horse was not hers. She checked out horse books from the library. She spent her chore money on plastic and stuffed horses and books called Everything About Horses. She kept her eyes peeled as we drove—looking for fields that might hold treasures she called Paints and Appaloosas.
She’s eight now. Still a tiny little slip of a girl who is often too quiet and always thinking. She’s not one to beg and annoy you with requests. She just quietly slips ideas into the cracks of moments… you have to listen carefully to hear the theme.
At the beginning of June, we drove to a chaplain event at the Naval Air Station at Oceana and passed the base stables. Cora Jo was riveted, gasping over and over again at the beautiful horses in the fields. I had forgotten how close the stables were—right there under the Navy jets. Suddenly, I knew what to do with all those whispered requests, and I went online.
Pony Pals Summer Camp.
Last week, we headed down to the feed and tack store and picked out a riding helmet and riding boots. She traded her shorts for jeans and she just about burst with happiness as we drove up to the stables Monday. Every day this week, from 9-12, she is learning to ride and care for a horse.
I couldn’t stay to watch the first day, because I had other chauffeuring to do, but we came a few minutes early to pick her up. I looked out into the covered stalls, and I saw that little head of curly blonde hair bobbing up and down as she brushed a huge gray horse.
She finished up and ran her brushes back to the gear room. Then she ran back to the horse stall and gingerly rubbed the horse’s nose. He nuzzled her back. I darn near broke down sobbing right there on the porch. She turned, saw us, and began to wave wildly. Her face was red and she had a grin that lit up the whole sky.
Is there anything more beautiful or vulnerable than a wildly happy little girl in high-water jeans who has just spent the morning on a horse?