Nine years ago, I started taking Horseback riding lessons at Oak View Stables in Olive Branch, MS. My lessons were every Thursday after school. I rode a chestnut colored horse with a white stripe down her nose. She wasn’t any particular breed, a Heinz 57 really. They said she had a little Morgan in her. No one else wanted to ride her because she was so stubborn. She wasn’t the usual sort of horse you’d find at a riding stable.
Kismet didn’t like to follow orders. We were a perfect match, two bullheaded individuals coming together. It could have been chaos, but it somehow worked beautifully. She did what I asked, sometimes not willingly the first few times, but eventually we developed a good working relationship.
Kismet was old even when I started riding her, in her mid twenties. She started to develop leg problems and as I got older, I often rode other horses. It was never the same. Kis and I had gotten in a wonderful groove.
Now I’m 22. My niece is seven. She’s just started riding. Her first lesson was today. Her horse was an old, swaybacked chestnut mare named Kismet they put all the beginning riders on these days. She’s thirty-five, ancient in horse years. I never expected to see her again. She was one of the first loves of my life.