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@sarah-inkdragon

Before I tell my long story here’s some background. I’m currently fifteen, but this all started around five years ago when I was ten. Well, actually it started when I was eight and a half, or seven. We’ll go with nine.

So I was nine and had just moved to a new town, about three hours away from the town I’d lived in most of my life. My Dad’s a pastor and he’d gotten a call, so we moved. I’d been very into 4-H since I was really ( I’m talking like five years or less) young, and so when we moved we very quickly joined the club in our new county. We were at one meeting when one of the leaders announced that there would be a meeting for the start of a new horse club where the members didn’t need a horse and could rent a pony of their very own for a dollar . (sounds crazy I know) And so my wonderful mother, who I can’t ever thank enough gave into a little girls pleas and took me to the meeting.

It wasn’t at all what we expected. There was no renting of ponies, and the woman running it was old, and very disorganized. But we stuck with it. I helped found the Mustang 4-h club, and am now the only remaining original member. And I think the only other person who was at that first meeting who is still around is my mom.

So we were a club, around five kids at the biggest meeting. We gained and lost kids like crazy, over half had horses anyway. And those who didn’t have a horse learned to ride on Irene’s (that is the name of that old, disorganized woman who I love so much) two ponies. It was rough, I almost gave up.

Okay, here’s the story of me and Micah. *deeply inhales*

So I’d been having a particularly hard time in the club because I’d been in it for around a year and I still hadn’t ridden without someone holding on, and there was one experience where the pony I was riding reared because a ride at the fair spooked him. The ponies bit me all the time and I was so shy and the leader kept contradicting herself so I was just terrified all the time.

Then something wonderful happened. I was assigned to give a demonstration on how to groom a horse, and I didn’t have a horse. But my wonderful mom had been talking to another woman who said I could come over and she’d teach me with her horse. So I went and I probably spoke about five words while I was there, but after I couldn’t shut up about it. I loved everything about it. She had five horses and she taught me things I could remember.

After the demonstration the woman invited me out again to brush out the horse when she started shedding. The horse was a thirty-two year old Arabian mare named Beta. She had Cushing’s and barely had any teeth, but I loved her to death. And after we got as much hair as we could out K (that’s what I’m gonna call the owner) put me on her back and taught me how to ride. I rode without someone leading for the first time that day. I was so happy, but how much can you ask of an ancient mare?

One day I was called out again with another girl who had just joined the club. She had more experience than I did, but we were the only two without horses at that point so we were put together. At first I was riding Beta, but then I think K and the vet were looking at her, I’m not sure. Anyway Irene had pulled up with a trailer, and unloaded two paint geldings. (there had been talk about bringing two horses up for the summer that Irene was watching for a friend, but I hadn’t believed it)

Irene had the other girl (S) and I get on. I rode the chestnut tobiano first and S took the bay tobiano. We both tried each that night, and then at the end we were asked which we like better. There was no discussion. I like my first and she liked hers. So that’s how I met Micah, and S found Patrick.

Micah was my own horse for the summer. He stayed at K’s which was only five miles out of town so I got to see him at least twice a week. That horse had so many problems. He walked with a limp (but at any other speed he was perfect), was incredibly skinny, and as we learned that summer was deaf. He had horrible manners, though not with me, and was really picked on by the other horses. Irene didn’t think he’d ever amount to anything. She couldn’t even get him to trot or move for more than ten minutes. But I loved him with every bone in my tiny ten year old body.

Together we proved everyone wrong. I learned to lope on Micah, and I took him on a twelve mile trail ride. We learned to do trail class and I even rode him bareback at a lope despite how very prominent his spine was. He didn’t like anyone else either, a boy tried to ride him once and though he didn’t do anything his ears were pinned back the entire time.

That was the greatest summer of my life.

And then August came to an end. Micah and his brother had to return to their owner who lived several states away. Micah was never ridden by him, only Patrick. The night before they went home we painted their hooves, I only threw that glittery purple hoof polish away a few months ago. I couldn’t sleep that night. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I was there when they took him too. I was there at five, they were supposed to be there at five thirty. They didn’t come till seven, but we waited. It was dark as I watched them take my best friend down the road. I didn’t even cry. I held on to the promise that he’d be back the next summer.

I was so little, I actually would run to the end of the side walk and look south every morning half expecting to see him running back to me.

A few months later Irene lost her job, ( I can’t go into details, but let’s just say that if it had been up to her she wouldn’t have resigned). Without Irene there would be no Micah. That’s when I cried.

It’s been five years now. I haven’t heard from Irene for at least two years. I don’t even know where she is anymore. Every time anyone asked what I wanted, I always said to go see Micah.

I actually was within five minutes of him last year. I tried to arrange a visit, but we couldn’t contact his owner.

So there you have it. *wipes away tears* (I told you it was long)