- May 1, 2024
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When I drive past the cow pasture near my house every morning, I fantasize about riding slowly on a horse through the great unknown, a piece of straw dangling from my lips. My face is wind-burnt, my eyes in a permanent squint.
And so, when I heard that a horse was coming to the B-section in Palm Coast, I knew this was the day when I would finally get to show my inner cowboy.
It was Alexis Fort’s birthday party. She was turning 3, and her parents had arranged with Jacob Boyd, a friend from church, to bring his star rodeo horse, Pistol, to the backyard and let the kids have a ride around the tree.
I waited patiently in line.
“So how do you get on?” I asked when it was my turn. “Aren’t you supposed to have a saddle?”
Jacob demonstrated how to leap onto the back of the horse. I followed suit, doing a perfect belly flop on to Pistol’s spine. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind.
I was on the great beast’s back, and I was off. “Hi ho!” I shouted in my mind, while my wife raised her eyebrows from the patio. My children watched me with amusement, their mouths full of gummy bears.
DeLayna Thomas, the 10-year-old sister of the birthday girl, was leading Pistol on a rope around the yard.
“Do you want to go faster?” she asked.
Ever so quietly, I said, “No, thanks.”
We took one lap, then a second lap, and my turn was over.
It was something I’ll never forget. I had tamed nature. I had been a true cowboy, even if just for a few moments, and I learned a few things about myself: First, I was born to work with wild animals like Pistol — we just “got” each other. Second, a saddle would probably be a must if I wanted to do this for any extended period of time. Third, there’s nothing like birthday cake after riding a horse.
So, thanks to the Forts for inviting me over. Let’s do it again next year. I’m asking for spurs and chaps for Christmas, so I’ll be ready!
