I walked slowly into the barn not thinking much of anything. This is my escape. As I entered through the large sheet metal door, my riding boots landed softly on the concrete. I smiled as I listened to the gentle clicking sound they made when my heel hit the floor. I adore the sound. There were cobwebs in the corners of the stalls, hardly noticeable with the light dust in the air from the arena. The stalls are all empty, but still filled with shavings for the dinner-time occupants. The air is musty and sweet smelling from the feed, dust, and horsy smell. It’s completely silent, a sound I enjoy. Walking to the feed room, I pick my golden yellow halter from the hook, attached is a checkered lead. I walk out the door and through the sand toward the back pen. That’s when I spy him, my large Missouri Fox Trotter gelding. He’s standing where he always is, by the hayrack, of course. He’s munching patiently away at the dry hay. I walk slowly and carefully out to him. Jack looks up, hay hanging from his forelock, with that same goofy look he always has. I whistle to him, “Apple Jack” I call. He looks back at the hayrack again, but then takes several steps forward and I do too, meeting him in the middle. He stands patiently as I slip the halter over his nose, then his ears. I buckle in carefully. He just watches, then I tug gently on the lead and walk forward. Jack gives into the pressure and follows slowly, as though calculating every step. I lead him through the white gate of his pen and click it shut behind us. Leading him back through the feed room, he still follows. We walk across the aisle and into the arena. The dirt floor picking up both of our prints. I lead him to the wall on the nearest side of the arena and tie him to the ring that’s attached to the wall. Jack stands there, knowing the routine. I leave the arena, and walk down the hall to the tack room. My gray Rubbermaid tub is on the floor near the door. I reach in and pull out my soft-bristled brush. Leaving the tack room I again go into the arena, Jack is standing where I left him, his eyes shut. I smiled to myself, what a lazy animal. I walked to his side and smell his shinny black coat. Burying my face in his neck fully enjoying his horsy smell. It’s so unique. There’s nothing quite like the smell of a horse. I pull my head back and run the brush along his neck, he leans lightly into the brush. Running the brush down his neck to his back in slow stroke, I remove the dust from his coat. I brush him until his coat gleams in the dark light of the arena. Again I leave the arena carrying the brush with me, leaving Jack to his horse thoughts for a minute. I return to the tack room and put my brush back into the Rubbermaid tub. I turn to face the wall where the bridles hang. They’re all different colors, ranging from the lightest brown to black. The silver bits shine in the dull light of the tack room. I select Jack’s and remove it from the hook. I begin walking back to the arena, carrying the bridle; it’s long leather reins thrown over my shoulder. Jack looks at me as I enter again, he knows what comes next. I return to his side and slip off his halter, not too concerned about him walking off. I reach up between his ears and grab the top of the bridle, holding his simple curb bit to his mouth. He opens his mouth and takes the bit; I slid the crown of the bridle over his ears and buckle the throatlatch. Removing the reins from my shoulder, I pull them over his head and lay them on his back. The knot that holds them together sits on his withers, the rest hang down to his knees. I pull gently on the reins and he follows me to the mounting-block. Stepping up onto the block, I throw over my left leg and jump slightly, so I’m now on his back. I smile to myself, fully enjoying being on him. Even standing still, I can feel his every movement. I pat his neck and click to him, letting him know he can walk on. Jack obliges and walks forward slowly. He plods along the edge of the arena carefully. I shut my eyes happily, loving being on his back. He finishes the lap still plodding. Urging him to a trot he obeys quickly, but it’s not really a trot. Jack instead paces smoothly. It feels like waddling and never fails to make me laugh. He keeps the steady pace, still hugging the edges of the arena. I tap my heels lightly to his sides, asking for the lope. Jack quickly picks up his left lead, in his perfect three beats. I love nothing more than this. Laughing louder I move with his beats. You can’t fight the horse or try and force it to do what you wish, a good rider moves with the horse and enjoys the ride. I love the sound of his hooves hitting the arena dirt; it isn’t a loud sound, but still audible. It’s a dull thudding; you can hear the beats. One, two, three, one, two, three. I count the beats in my head. His breaths even fall with the beats. One, two, breath, one, two, breath. Even his mane follows the beat. Rising and falling with the beats. I can not think of anything I’d rather do than sit on the back of a horse. I pull back gently on the reins and he immediately slows to a pace, then a walk. Jack plods along slowly again. I can feel him breathing now. I pull back on the reins again and he stops. Flinging one leg over his back, I hop down. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. I smile and pull the reins over his head, and lead him across the arena, then through the feed room. We reach the gate of his pen again. Jack waits patiently as I open the gate and lead him through. I unbuckle the throatlatch and slip the bridle back over his ears and the bit drops from his mouth. Jack shakes his head and neck. Holding the dark leather bridle in my hand I stroke him with my free hand. He leans into the petting, but then looks back at me. I smile knowing exactly what he wants. I turn from him and walk out the gate, shutting it behind me. Turning I see Jack is already heading back to the hayrack. I just shake my head and walk back to the barn. Walking back into the tack room I again place Jack’s bridle on it’s hook and walk down the aisle. Absorbing the last of the smell as I walk out the sheet metal door, and back into the real world.
-2008