horse memory

Three girls riding in a row on Toro’s back. Falling like a giggling ribbon across his side. Hitting the ground with a bounce and climbing back on. I was ten. My cousins and our friends would ride our horses back and forth between our houses along the railroad tracks. Halfway between my house and my cousins’ house lived Dawn and Darlene Trokey. Robin lived next door to Dawn and Darlene.

Robin had a weedy barn sour sorrel mare. Darlene had Toro and Dawn had Go Eastern A Go Go. We called him GoGee. I can remember being at the Trokey’s house and being told that we could ride to my house on their horses if we put a saddle on GoGee. GoGee’s withers were two-feet higher than the tops of our heads. We watched as Dawn came at GoGee with a 16-inch western equitation saddle lifted over her head and then resting it on the barrel of the dappled grey gelding as he just stood there. Several times, she pushed the saddle up and it shoved the woven saddle blanket off his back. “We don’t need the blanket. Do we?”