Misty Garrison » Gathered Fragments

the cowgirl.

That time we spent Thanksgiving in the country with the real cowboys of the family.  And Cousin Lynn let you ride Harley for a LONG time.  He started you out in the big corral while he lead you around in circle after circle.  Then, in your bossy three year old fashion, you demanded to do it by yourself.  And with the patience of a saint (both the horse and the cowboy), he moved you into the barn enclosure and let you have the reins.  And you took control of that man & his horse just like you have been doing with our hearts since the day your birth mother placed you in our arms.

You kicked your feet with fervor and felt frustrated when he wouldn’t go.  You didn’t realize that your little legs barely reached past his saddle, so he couldn’t feel your most strenuous efforts.  But that didn’t stop you.  Instead you proceeded to click your tongue just like the cowboy.  And when that didn’t get him moving, you told Cousin Lynn that Harley must be nervous.  And, I am sure they both were considering what precious cargo they were responsible for.  But then, the cowboy started walking and the loyal horse started to follow.  And you were in heaven riding that horse with the reins in your hands while you kept kicking your feet & clicking your tongue.

And the minutes passed.  And the man & horse walked tiny circles.  And you sat tall in your saddle.

And you were the cowgirl.

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