Our neighbor Brett walked over with his horse, Charlie. “Hey, Family!” he said, leading Charlie in between him and us. Charlie lowered his head in McKenna’s general direction. She lifted her hand up, rubbed the velvety muzzle of his nose and said, “I love you. What’s your name?” Brett made an introduction, and Kenna’s daddy lifted her up so she could be eye-to-eye with Charlie. “Hi Charlie,” she said. “Can I give you a kiss?” She leaned in towards Charlie, and I grabbed Kenny’s phone. Why did I forget my camera again? These are the moments I want to capture. I missed the kiss, but I managed to grab this one:
She’s a natural. Her sister watched from atop Lainey’s shoulders, wide-eyed and hesitant. “Did you want to pet Charlie, Stevie?” I asked. She shook her head. “No, let Kenna do it. His teeth are too big!”
The rodeo kids saddled up and headed towards the arena to warm up. We took our spots on the bleachers. Kenna never took her eyes off the center pen. She was quiet, watching as each horse trotted in, pulling her hand up next to her face with her index finger pointing towards the action. “One, two, three, four…” She was taking inventory. “Momma, how many horses can you have?”
Kenny chuckled. He knew what was coming. “I don’t know, Kenna,” I said. “I suppose you can have as many as you have room for.” Oops. Wrong thing to say.
Kenna turned to Kenny. “Daddy, how much room do we have?”
“Not enough, Mac,” Kenny told her. The thought of a For Sale sign in front of our yard popped into my head, followed by endless boxes to pack, a house unreachable by pizza delivery boys, and perpetual manure on the bottoms of my shoes.
Another friend of ours rode up behind the bleachers where we were sitting. Dixie has two horses at the arena that she rides on the rodeo team. She was riding a cute little colt, just about 5 years old. His name was Bolt, she said, “and for good reason. You never know which way he’s gonna go, but he’s getting better.”
Kenna crawled out of her daddy’s lap, jumped off the bleachers and within seconds was under Bolt’s bridle, arms outstretched. “Can I ride him, Dixie?” Oh no. With a name like Bolt, this was one horse I would rather avoid. I didn’t have time to act. Dixie hopped off, scooped up my baby and plopped her in the saddle. “Good boy, Bolt,” she whispered.
Kenna did the same. “Goooooood boooooy, Bolt.” She patted his neck and reached for the reins. Momma had to speak up.
“She’s never been on a horse, Dix,” I said, trying to keep myself from grabbing my baby off the back of Bolt.
I could see Dixie’s fingers wrapped tightly around the reins. She was in control. “Why don’t we just walk around?” Slowly, Bolt loped behind Dixie, as she took my baby around in a circle. I wished my grandpa could see this.
I see cowboy boots in our future. And manure.
Love,
McKenna’s Mom
p.s. Stevie did get on the back of Bolt last night, but the picture is being held hostage in Kenny’s phone.
2 comments:
I am busting my buttons over the newest cowgirl on the block! My granddaughter comes by it quite naturally from both sides of her family. I would sit in my father's saddle for hours and dream of riding a horse. And when I could, that's exactly what I did. Yep -- she has that look in her eyes. It's the same dream.
What is it with girls and horses? Geez.
Post a Comment