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Hey baby girl,
It's me. Obviously. It's
May first, which you probably know, because you always knew everything before
I did. Anyway, I feel silly writing to you, because I talk to you like you're
a person, and all the other tributes have been so wonderfully written. But
I always talked to you like this, so why break tradition?
Anyway, things here are okay. I'm riding again. The first horse I rode after
you was named Domino, and he was an appaloosa. He was really ugly, but very
nice. And then I rode a mare named Whisper, who was part Arabian, and that
about broke my heart, but she was bay, and her ears weren't as nice as yours.
Then I rode a gelding named Lenny, who was super lazy. And finally, Hazel,
who I liked because she reminded me of you. She certainly knew how to try
and get her own way. She was the first horse I've been on since you who was
any real challenge. It felt kind of good. But nothing compared to how you
were. Duh. Sometimes I really hate that I promised you I wouldn't give up
on horses after you'd gone. I just can't see finding another one as special
as you. On the other hand, let's face it; I'm just better with horses than
with people.
The thing is, I still cry
when I talk about you too much. Or think about you. It occurred to me the
other day that if I became an actress (which I never will, I think), I could
cry on demand quite easily. Silver lining, huh? Yeah. Well, I'd rather have
you than tears on demand, but I guess I'll take what I can get.
I wanted to tell you I'm
sorry for something. I know I always told you that I'd never do anything
to hurt you, and that you could trust me, and you did, and I trusted you,
and it was great. Well, I hope that you aren't hurt that I led you out and
held you for the vet. I feel bad about it still. You were so calm, and I'm
so proud of you still. I always was. No matter what, you were the one thing
that was always wonderful. And there were a lot of things that weren't wonderful,
as I'm sure you remember from my lengthy tales during grooming. Anyway, I'm
really sorry. I bet you'll forgive me. You always did. And I forgive you
for getting old. Haha, just kidding. 28 isn't old. I thought of you on your
birthday. Well, I think of you most days. But I sent you birthday wishes.
Did you get them? I'll assume you did.
I'm helping mom train a
horse this summer, Otis, from across the road. I'm not sure what we're getting
into. I miss not having a horse I understand so completely and vice
versa.
Bronson and I are doing
well, and mom's good, and Moses and Oblio are okay too.
I miss the heck out of
you, missy mare. I love you so much.
Love,
Me
(Nicole M.)
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Camelliaa
