Earlier this week I stopped in the barn’s lounge after my riding lesson and spoke to a grandmother waiting for her granddaughter. The child had long ago finished her riding lesson, but she was still in the stabling area grooming horses, watching the farriers, and feeding peppermints. The grandmother and I talked about the little girl’s passion for horses.
On the way home, I realized this young child and I have much in common. I’m a grandmother myself, but the age difference between us means nothing at the barn. We can talk “horse.”
The teenagers who work in the afternoons saddling and bridling the horses speak the same language. So do the regular grooms, the trainers and owners. Earlier that afternoon, I’d witnessed a lesson with three girls of various ages and sizes, and an adult on a gaited horse. They were there sweating and working out because of their love for horses, in this case, the beautiful American Saddlebreds.
Wealthy people go to the barn as well as folks like me who can only afford a weekly riding lesson as our horse fix. But it doesn’t matter if we’re old or young, rich or poor—we’re equal.
The love of horses, any horse, makes us comrades.