horses.

I have liked horses since young, and at one point, we owned some — in Puerto Rico. My father decided to give the youngest four (me included) horses for Christmas. We were so excited! I realized not long after that he bought the horses, and since they four and we were four, it made sense to make them gifts.

We were kids — my youngest sister under five. So, they really weren’t gifts, but, for me at least, it was cool to say I got a horse for Christmas. Their names? Cacique (had a diamond on his forehead), Pinto (he was a Palomino), Indio (mine), and Inca. One of my parents’ friends out-in-the-country, I will call him Leandro, had a real Pinto horse named Don Q — like the rum. What a horse! And what a man! I mean, I was young, little actually, but was always overwhelmed in his presence.

A couple of times, a handful of families and friends went on cavalcades (horse-riding caravans, sort of) which ended in overnight camping. A vehicle or two would go along to bring stuff. On one of those trips, I wanted to ride.

i loathed (still do) missing out

and being in a vehicle to be kept safe with the women. When I say I was young, I mean under ten years old. So Leandro told me I could ride with him. I still remember it. His horse, to boot, was a Paso Fino. If you have never heard of them, or seen one, let me say that they are amazing. This particular horse was super amazing. We went off from the clump, and Leandro began to sing, and Don Q to do what I equated to a dance. Must have gone into the Paso Fino gait while Leandro sang a gorgeous song— to this day, that song stills my heart.

the memory is defining in some way

I own the song by various artists and ask it to be sung when someone asks what do you want to hear? I have no other song I want to be serenaded with. The few times when that has happened, as recently as a handful of years ago, remain a gift. The song is addressed to a woman with green eyes. Yes, mine are green.

yet I was so afraid of them!

Of the horses. =) Terrified. And would seldom (like, almost never) rode alone but would hop on with anyone that wouldn’t mind little runt me tagging along. In high school, I wrote as many book reports as I could on horses or the mafia. I was very interested in that too, for some reason, and read and knew all about Jimmy Hoffa (except exactly where he is) before I turned sixteen. Must have found it intriguing. Read so much about it that one night, after writing about it for school, the mafia popped up (no pun intended) in a dream with dire consequences — a story for another day. =)

Every now and then I remember something from long ago

AND GIVE THANKS
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Next time I go home, I will photograph some of those farm and horse pictures. There are photos in boxes and old suitcases, and it’s so much fun going through them because you can pass a photo around or look over someone’s shoulder —
BETTER THAN GOING IN ORDER THROUGH A PHOTO ALBUM.