Finding Freedom Outdoors: My Childhood Adventures on Horseback

I was most myself and even lost myself atop that horse I rode every day. I was happy. I was free. 

I didn’t own a saddle. There was no bit or bridle to steer, so I grabbed lead rope and mane, sat deep, and forged acres of wooded trails. Like any other kid, I was unaware of danger or misfortune. I was fearless. 

We jumped logs, swam in the lake, and galloped up and down the grassy hills with the wind rustling our ears. That tricksy wind swept me up and gave me reason to believe I was truly flying.

The seasons trampled on like the sound of hooves crunching decay under a canopy of naked hardwoods. Winter always arrived right on time in Northern Michigan. The birds took flight, taking their songs with them.

But that didn’t stop my comrades and me from braving the cold. Plastic sleds were hitched with baling twine behind our ponies to drag us around the snow-covered fields.

Inside the happy chaos of barking dogs and laughter peals, we plowed on with soaking snow up our mitts and down our boots. Nothing could dampen our spirits.

Nearly feral, I practically lived outdoors as a kid. My worried mom tried to teach me the fine art of housekeeping by forcing me to dry the dishes each night after supper. I hated drying dishes.

My older sister always got to wash. I wanted to be the one washing. I can still see her hands, red from the hot water, dotted with bubbles. Her long, manicured nails chipped baked-on food off the side of a casserole dish. Oh, she was a girly-girl through and through. And she was a mean girl, said every little sister everywhere!

Our bedrooms were right next to each other. From the other side of the wall, I got the distinct pleasure of indulging in whatever records she was spinning. I most remember Rod Stewart’s Handbags and Gladrags and Maggie May entrancing my ears. Secretly, I loved every bit of it, especially when Carol King chimed in. I wished I had a friend like her.

Nowadays, I’d give anything to have my sister back. To rob her closet of a cool t-shirt and snoop through her dresser drawers. I’d love to hear her yelling at me as I ran through the living room, interrupting her Saturday TV with Mr. Dick Clark. 

I wish I could have known how little time I had left with my older brother and sister. A few years later, they would both be gone. Life gives and takes so much more than we bargain for, doesn’t it?

And isn’t it just like us humans to take it all for granted? How could we know? How could we realize what we possess when we’re in the midst of it all and distracted by something so buttery, so succulent, and so good? 

Today I caught a glimpse of the forest for the trees. Centered behind the withers of that half-broke horse, I inhaled every delicious scent, sight, and sound. I was everything I wanted to be, plodding those dirt trails. I was at peace. I was happy. I was free. 

I am unearthed and comforted by their voices in my spirit. Looking back now, I am surely convinced I took all the right paths. My mother’s attempts at lessons in housekeeping, by way of a few wet dishes, will never persuade me otherwise.