I’m young, in the single digits, and I remember playing with Stretch Armstrong with my uncle (who happens to be six months younger than me) on a grassy field. My Mom and Grandpa are there but I’m focused on stretching Stretch’s arms and legs as far as they will go, though I worry that I’ll stretch him too far.
My other memory from that first horse show at Trader’s Point is (surprise surprise) from the back of a horse. Mom let me go on a pony ride, and as my squat, furry new best friend moseyed around the circle I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. It was a wonderful feeling, to ride a horse.
When I came around the curve, Mom sees me and asks, “Are you sure you want to take horseback riding lessons?” I nod so vigorously I lose sight of her, say a hushed but urgent “yes”.