Saving Up

I didn’t have a horse-print on the seat of my jeans when I slid off Ransom, thanks to his stylish new bareback pad. I’ve been waiting a long time to have my own horse to spend Christmas money on. I used to spend hours scouring horse supply catalogues, picking out all the things I would buy my horse, planning coordinating color schemes, and calculating costs.

When I was thirteen, Momma humored me and let me spend my hard earned allowance on a halter and lead rope from the local tack store. Never mind that I didn’t have a horse to use it on. I just thrilled in having it on hand, in case I needed to catch the lost horse that might wander onto our property.

When I was sixteen, my riding instructor gave me a bucket, sweat scraper, stiff brush, and two red hoofpicks for Christmas. Her favorite refrain was, “Sarah, when are you going to get a horse?” The lunge whip I won at a horseshow sat in my closet untouched, waiting for the day.

Every couple years when I sifted through my stuff, reducing my belongings and filling a donation bag, the horse equipment managed to make the cut, though narrowly. I wasn’t using it and it took up space. But I couldn’t bear to part with it. Somehow getting rid of the tools was like giving up the dream.

Finally I’ve been justified. The lunge whip has left its closet prison for a more useful life, and the hoofpicks are getting dirty like they ought. And I’m scouring horse catalogues, picking out all the things I want to buy for Ransom, planning coordinating color schemes, and calculating costs. And how long it will take to save up.