My Cowboy Boots

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When I was a young teenager I used to go trail riding almost every Saturday with my first best friend Debbie. I loved this activity like no other. We rode for an hour through the cool woods, enjoying ourselves immensely. Without Debbie this couldn’t have happened because my Mother worked every Sat. It was Debbie’s mom who brought us to the stables, and picked us up about an hour later. We both loved this event, and Debbie patiently waited for me until all my chores were done. I used my own money to pay earned from babysitting or illegally working underage at my parents best friends bakery. At the bakery my job was washing huge cookie sheets- nearly bigger than I was. My brother worked in the back of the bakery stuffing donuts with cream, my favorites, and every now and then, he’d sneak a warm one out to me. It was heavenly.

Back to riding, and a brief commentary on my luck. My mother used to say to me, Faye, if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have no luck at all. My life has proven her point only too well.

One tragic day after a couple summers of joyous riding with Debbie, her horse, for no apparent reason, swung his giant head around and bit her on the chest. Her mom had just arrived to take us home, but instead we went to the hospital, were poor Debbie was admitted after getting some stitches. She had to stay for IV fluids. And never rode horseback again. It was sad that she got hurt, but terrible that I also couldn’t ride again because I had no way to get to the stables.

Now I’m 60 something and I noticed that were we bring my granddaughters to ride on ponies also has horses to rent for trail riding. I’m not going to ask my daughter to take me there because it takes a long time: I’m going to ask my CNA, who should start coming to take of me in a couple of weeks. I think I can get away with this request under my need for exercise. Clever aren’t I???

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One Response to My Cowboy Boots

  1. Pingback: My Cowboy Boots | Elder Artist

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