Yesterday

Yesterday was the first day she took Thunder out on trails alone. Yesterday she found out what it is to experience true pain.

Yesterday my stomach muscles got a thorough workout as I strained against the back-and-forth motion of my Grandma's rusty lawn mower. Yesterday I was kissed by the sun.

Yesterday she felt her adrenaline beating through the ends of her toes. 

Yesterday was a good day, for me.

But for her, it was the start of never ending ride, whose haunting eyes will follow her always.

The wind was blowing the strands of her salt and pepper hair in swirls that had escaped the confines of her helmet and pony tail. She smiled as the the sun hit her face. She knew in this fresh light the freckles she had tried to conceal in her younger days would be more prominent than ever, and she didn't care. The only souls to care about her blemishes were herself and of course, Thunder, who was walking languidly after their hour long lesson.

The first truly warm day of the season. She might have even classified it as hot if it weren't for the gentle breeze that moved the delicate branches of the newly budding trees. Thunder had been ornery today. The warm weather had molded his usually patient attitude into on of something like defiance. Not the the vicious kind, but the intolerant kind. He didn't want to work, and he had let her know by spooking, jumping, and bolting past everything he could discern outside of the area walls. But that was over now. They had ended the lesson on a good note. Not great, but good.

Now they walked around in the luscious front pasture. The instructor had left. The other boarders had left. Alone at last. Her cell phone, which was sure to be buzzing incessantly, had been abandoned in the right cup-holder of her car. The world had been left behind, and it felt wonderful! The constant rustle of grass under Thunder's hooves were the perfect rhythm to extinguish the last of her concerns, at least for the moment.

But then something was wrong. Instead of a comforting rhythm, Thunder's hooves produced a sporadic, unsettling beat, and ever so slightly he heaved underneath of her. He was obvious trying to get the point across that strolling in the pasture all alone was not his idea of relaxing. Nevertheless, she kicked him on, but she couldn't help the nervous feeling in her stomach growing into what felt like a baseball. She felt her shoulders fall forward as he no longer danced underneath of her, but leaped in the air, a motion that curved sideways, forward, and toward the sky all at once. Her confidence was most definitely shaken, and she took his hint. She turned his head towards the barn, and the rest of his body followed in tune. But instead of settling him, it only made him fight the bit even more. He tried to run through her hands, but she wouldn't let him. 

From a bystanders perspective, she probably looked like the typical beginner. Sky high heels, slumped shoulders, weakened core, and too tight and too high hands. A disaster in the making. 

Thunder, on the other hand, gave the persona of a pro. He was going back to the barn, even if that meant loosing a hundred pounds or so off the sway of his back.

He picked up a jog that fell more like a stationary bounce. "Easy," she said, but the nervousness in her seat did anything but calm Thunder. "WHOAH!" she yelled this time, her voice cracking with fear. The reins in her hands jerked against what was obviously Thunder's teeth, and he retaliated by lunging into a full blown buck. Her balance was immediately thrown off kilter and she desperately grabbed for something, anything that would save her fall. Thunder utilized every ounce of power underneath his monstrous body to project into another buck, even more massive than before. Unbeknown to him, he would have only had to sidestep in the opposite direction, and she would have liberated him to his own devices. All the same, she fell. A very short fall. She didn't even have time to realize she was falling really, until she hit the ground. She felt her ankles give way beneath her, and she tipped forward only to find the world go green beneath her. Grass. Thunder was already half way to the barn, showing no signs of coming back. There was only one thing to do. Get up! She tried, but her feet weren't there! But that was impossible. Of course they were there! Then she saw the blood, and she began to doubt her certainty.

This story is non-fiction, embellished by my own imagination, but it is fact. The only problem is, I can't begin to imagine the rest, but I can tell you the plain facts.

Finding no other way to recieve help, this woman drug herself on all fours across the pasture, which is easily the size of a football field; down the barn isle and into the lounge, where she attempted to use the emergency cell phone. But rather than dialing "911," she accidentally dialed "911*911," which of course did not go through. Instead of trying again, she drug herself to her saddle bag where her keys lay, and back down the barn isle, across the gravel, and into the parking lot where her car sat undisturbed. It is truly a miracle that she did not bleed to death along the way. Either that or pass out from the pain. She called the barn manager, who was on her way home but unable to answer, and her husband, who was an hour away. Then she collapsed in a heap, her knees in the gravel, her head descending below it.

By the time the ambulance arrived, it was obvious both of her legs had been broken. Her left leg was in pieces, most of which were visible through the tattered mess of flesh surrounding them. She has spent the last twenty-four hours in intensive care.

I tell you this story, Dear Reader, with only one intention in mind: to remind you of the dangers of our beloved sport. Horses are horses. We love them, but they will do stupid things. It is spring time! They have been cooped up in the barn all winter and are undoubtedly slightly heard bound. Ride with someone the first few times you go out on trails! And never, ever ride without a cell phone.

No one ever thinks anything bad is going to happen to them. She didn't. I don't. Remind those you love by linking this story to your Twitter, Facebook, or Blog. Remind them that we shouldn't take our life for granted. We only have one.