Happiness!

"You complete me!" Jerry McGuire

After almost 20 years, I have come home. Not home to place or a person, but to myself. Twenty years have passed since I gave up an essential part of who I am. It could not be helped, but it diminished me. There was a part of me missing which shaped me from the time I was two years old. My horses.

People who do not share this love can not understand; they may try to, may want to, but it is a special feeling that exists in your very core. It is like breathing; if it is not nurtured, a part of you dies. My love of horses was born in me. My road to owning them was a rocky one. My mother would rather I had been a frilly little girl who dressed up and baked and sewed. I was a tomboy - the one who could milk a cow and squirt the barn cats. And "drove" my Grandpere's work horse, Queenie, every chance I got.  I can still remember feeding her oats, her huge, velvet muzzle could have swallowed my little hand whole, but she was ever so gentle with me.

My first pony ride at the age of 2

Most of my childhood was spent wishing for a horse, never a pony, a horse. I had to content myself with the occasional trail ride or paying some poor person a quarter to let me sit on his horse. I watched every horse movie Walt Disney put out and read My Friend Flicka until the pages were so tear stained they were unreadable. Then, one day when I was 13, we drove into a place that is still magical to me, Hobby Horse Farm in Coldbrook, NS., a Morgan breeding farm. The Canadian National Pony Club Rally was being held there. I got out of the car; I can still see it in my mind's eye: horses...everywhere...beautiful, shining, nickering horses..all colours, sizes, and girls just like me riding them. I knew I had to find a way to make this mine.

That winter I babysat every chance I got to earn the money so I could go to riding camp at Hobby Horse Farm for 2 weeks the following summer. Now it seems so little: $250.00, but to me it was a fortune! My mother let me out of the car in July; I grabbed my sleeping bag and never looked back. As I walked through the barn, the smells and sounds of gently snorting horses were already imprinting on my soul. My first teacher was an elderly matron by the name of Spring Letty, a purebred chestnut Morgan mare who knew the ropes. She safely guided me through those first lessons, put up with my clumsy attempt at posting and showed me the exhilaration of my first canter. I was so hooked.

The next 2 summers were spent there, learning the basics of horsemanship and reveling in the sheer joy of being with horses. At the end of my third summer, my mother relented and I bought my first horse, On Trial, a French Coach x Quarter Horse gelding that I had ridden in my lessons. He was the first; to detail them all would require a book, but one particular mare needs to be mentioned. My Sweet Freedom, Jessie.

Jessie was a bay Thoroughbred mare; 5yrs old when I got her with a wicked buck. She became the best horse I ever owned, and I realized my lifelong dream of raising my own foal through her.

Tucker was everything I had dreamed of. A gorgeous bay colt by a Hanoverian stallion. I delivered him myself and enjoyed watching him grow up. At 10 months he was almost 15 hands. a big boy indeed. He had that floating trot that every dressage rider dreams of and a sweet nature.

Then the bubble burst; he was diagnosed with an incurable condition called Wobblers' Syndrome. I guess the closest analogy would be MS in humans. We tried everything to save him, but, at 15 months, I had to have him put down. My heart broke. It never completely healed. To this day, I can trace the last 25 years to that moment. Everything that has happened to me since then was rooted in that loss. I had 2 other horses after him, but could not connect to them. My marriage broke up and I was on my own working Call Center jobs to pay the bills. There was little happiness for many years.

I rode occasionally. Other peoples' horses, never the same as having my own, but it kept me in the . saddle. I had lost my mojo, though, until I started riding in Costa Rica. In 2011, we went to Leaves and Lizards Eco Lodge where I was mounted on a wonderful Costa Rican horse called Mr. Big.

From the moment I swung my leg over him, I felt the old thrill that I used to have in riding. He was one of the best horses I have ever ridden. He had been abused in a previous life, but now he gave his heart to you and was just a joy to ride. For the next 2 summers, I rode him and rediscovered that magical connection that I am so blessed to have with these giving, intelligent, spiritual creatures. I continued that journey with another horse, Rayo, at Leaves and Lizards, who taught me to trust myself and my horse, that together we could climb up and down some crazy terrain. Even when I came off last summer, it did not shake me. I guess I was getting ready for this final step. I knew, at the age of 60, that I had one more horse left in me.

We moved to Panama; there are horses everywhere! People still use horses for transportation here! But I didn't want just any horse. I wanted a special horse; my heart horse. After 25 years, I am ready to give my heart again. It is scary, but it is necessary. I am tired of being incomplete. A month ago I saw the ad. My heart went through some gymnastics, because I knew him the moment I saw him. I had 4 requirements: Safe, Sound, Sane and Smooth. His personality shone even in the photo. His owner had another horse for sale, a lovely Andalusian mare, whom I rode and liked very much, but I was waiting to meet him. He was temporarily at another farm

Today I met my heart horse. His name is Ali Baba. He is a 9 yr old, grey 14.3HH Iberian horse ( Andalusian x Paso Fino) with the personality of a Golden Retriever. He has impeccable manners; is bomb proof, but still has spunk and has wonderful training. I am so happy that I am scared. But I am going with the flow! The Universe has come through for me in spades. I have a wonderful husband, a new life with no snow, natural beauty all around me, new adventures, and now, my horse. I have to trust that the Universe will work out the last few small details for us in its own good time. In the meantime, I can truly say, "Life is good! Thank you!"!