She blinked her eyes sleepily. Again, adding a slight rub with her hands. Checked the time on her alarm clock. “Nine-thirty!” She gasped, jumping out of her bed onto the cold floor.

Grabbing her new junky phone, she quickly texted her friend: “HEY! thx for asking and i just asked lil bro hes like y wud i wanna com but then he sed fine lol. R we gonna go? Oh good morn btw- ugh g2g wash my face”

She then proceeded to wash her face, thinking all the while about what she would wear. The weather was really windy, and she wasn’t sure if it would be that bad at the stables, where she was headed.

Her first time horseback riding. Thoughts of falling off the horse filled her head as she quickly dried her face and put her toothbrush away. Now completely awake, she dashed back into her room to read her friends’ text.

“Haha! ya we r going. good morning to u too! unless it storms within the next 2 hours but it shouldn’t.”

But it looked like it would.

She wore a short flarey skirt, tights, a shirt and a zip up hoodie for the wind.

She went downstairs, ate, came back up, made sure everything was ready, ran back down to take vitamins- YUM!-back up again because she forgot her phone. Then she waited for her friend to come pick her up.

The wind howled slightly, along with her stomach. She was nervous; that was all. It was her first time, after all.

She discovered she had three phones in her new purse. She ran back upstairs to put two of them away. One was quite enough. Lunch, snack, drinks, check. Her 12 year old brother who loves horses? Check. He carried the food. No, he didn’t. He made her carry it.

Her ride came.

They got into the car. Her brother was silent; he was outnumbered, what with his sister, her friend, HER sister, and their mom, who was driving. It took an hour to get there. It looked like the Wizard of Oz weather.

Tornado weather.

They had interesting conversations about the army base that was nearby, or was it a National Guard base? She didn’t know what the heck National Guard was. She didn’t care. Anything with guns was cool. Her brother joined in a little. They talked about snipers. And school, and horses, and other things.

She wasn’t that nervous, and definitly not about the horses. More about the fear of the unknown, she decided.

They arrived. She couldn’t believe it. One stretch of dried out grass in the counrty looked the same as the next. There were a bunch of horses swishing their tails and munching stuff, under an awning. There was a little building. And lots and lots of horse dung.

They got out of the car. She felt nervous again.

She borrowed her friends moms windbreaker. It was too big, but it was warm.

They went to the little awning. The howling wind fit into the dry scenery, rustling bare branches of trees, and gray sky. It was not horseback riding weather.

Only it was.

She was good at naming people, based on their looks. It wasn’t a nice thing to do, but it sure made her laugh. The woman looked like an Edith. Not that Edith is a bad name. But still. She sniggled to herself, as the woman started to talk. Like an Edith.

“Ah sure wouldn’t go out in this here weather” she grumbled in her countr-ay accent. “Edith” explained that although she would get fired if she actually told them not to ride, she sure didn’t recomend it.

They looked at each other for awhile, wondering what to do. Then, she suggested that they only ride for half an hour. Edith grumbled an agreement and went to saddle up the horses.

Meanwhile, her friends mother helped calm her down by telling her funny stuff form her riding experiences. She laughed, and before she knew it, they had paid, a man with a French braid had ridden up in a truck, and it was time to go.

Frenchie would be their leader. He looked more Scottish to her, she decided. He seemed nice. He had them line up by a fence, while he and “Edith” brought out the horses.

Her brother mounted really smoothly. She probably did too, but she was too aware of the massiveness of the horse to notice.

Frenchie explained the steering. “Whoa” he said, demonstrating ways to stop or reverse. “Whoa”, she imitated. Frenchie seemed satisfied. She didn’t feel ready. Frenchie mounted his horse, a speckled brown and white. She didn’t know what it was called. She didn’t care.

Hers was black. Every time it snorted or moved she would get scared. It felt so weird, being mounted on top of another being. Not that she compared herself to a horse, although sometimes she felt like one. But still.

She looked around. Her horse was a boy, named BJ. He was lazy, and had his eyes closed, as the mom pointed out. She grinned; this wasn’t so hard.

Then they started to walk.

It wasn’t smooth. But she hung on to the reins with her right hand, and the saddle horn wiht her left. They clopped along. She fell behind, and had to urge BJ alot to move his lousy…self. He snorted and twitched. They rode over green grass, into the woods.

Leaves were all over the ground, but no-where near the trees. She watched as massive brickloads of brown goo, known as poop, escaped the rear end of the horse in front of her, Dallas, which her brother was riding.

She was grossed out, even though her friends mother had warned her. This natural occurence happened frequently. She learned to ignore it.

“Downhill” Frenchie yelled, at the top of a steep rise. “What do I DO?” She screamed back, petrified.
“Lean backwards to compensate for the angle” he replied. She noticed that no-one else was leaning back as far as she was.

Maybe she eased up on her back bend. Or maybe BJ didn’t give a horse-turd regarding her position.

Either way, he broke into a trot. Going downhill. She screamed. She didn’t go crazy, just screamed, horrified, jostled, and clutching the reins.

“What do I DOOOO?” She asked, “zipping” by everyone.
“Say ‘Whoa'”, she was told. She did. It worked. She felt…stupid. And girly.

It was not her last time trotting, but at least she got better at it. Maybe.

The horses stopped to drink water. One swished his tail. She got sprayed.

She hated going uphill. She had to lean forward; she thought they would tumble down.

She had to steer BJ around trees, and not get hit in the eye, face, leg or arm. She had to lean forward, back, and do ‘something’ with her legs while trotting, respectively.

After awhile, she relaxed, breathed, and just enjoyed it. She could almost imagine that this was fun. Like driving; it could be boring at times, or too stressful at times. But just relaxing, now that was a perfectly happy medium.

It drizzled lightly a couple of times. A branch fell somewhere in the woods.

She was glad when it was nearly over. She hated when one horse in front (they were always in  front) would break into a trot; BJ was a copy-horse, and he would take her by surprise. Her feet would come out of the stirrup, and she would yell a broken, “Whoaa-aah-ahha-aha!” as each move of BJ’s limbs bounced her up and down.

Then they would stop. It was so anticlimatic that she stopped yelling. They walked their horses back. It looked so graceful when the others would trot. Only she felt the bounce. Not really, it just FELT that way.

When it was time to dismount, she kind of stood with one foot in the stirrups, while Ediths face seemed to spell out, “City Girls”.  Her brother rubbed it in a couple of times later, but she managed to get down.

They said thank you.

They drove home.

She nearly fell asleep in the car.
When she got home she did fall asleep. Then she woke up.

She was not in the mood of schoolwork, so she surfed the net, listened to an amazing lecture by her favorite lecturer, and finally emptied her email inbox. Some of the stuff by accident, but she didn’t care.

Her family had pizza for supper, and then she had to watch all her little siblings, because no one else would. It was annoying. It was also fun.

She didn’t complain when her mom finally came home; just left to meet her freind. Then they walked, talked and texted, until her dad picked her up from her friends house. She went home.

She typed on her blog. She looked in the mirror. She is Me.

Keep UNraveling!


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. ellbrbee
    Oct 27, 2010 @ 22:37:06

    AWESOME POST! I love the way you wrote it! He actually is scottish:) Its cool that you noticed. Yes you did get better at trotting. By the way everyone feels the bounce when they trot the trick is to pretend you don’t and try to0 keep your balance so you don’t look like a complete idiot:D I thought you did really well though!


  2. boomkaboom2608
    Oct 28, 2010 @ 23:31:51

    amazing post! 🙂


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