Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
An Advent Calendar - 5. Door#5 - A Christmas Memory
A Christmas Memory
When I was ten years old, I was a typical horse-crazy little girl. I had a herd of model horses that jumped Lego jumps, pulled Lego wagons with yarn harnesses, and ran all over my parents’ gardens in our backyard. We lived in the suburbs, so I contented myself with my plastic doppelgangers and my shelves of horse books—both fact and fiction. I was a sponge when it came to reading anything about horses. I knew all the breeds, colors, parts of the horse, and what different tack was called. My room was decorated in horse posters, I owned several shirts with pictures of horses on them, and even the wallpaper in my bedroom was comprised of drawings of horses rearing and galloping.
I was content with my small library and beloved figurines. I created a small ‘nest’ in my closet where I would read my stories—imaging myself as Alec Ramsay saving the Black Stallion, then galloping along the beach on his back, or the girl who finds an abused horse, then takes it to the Olympics. Marguerite Henry’s stories transported me to Chincoteague Island and inspired a love for wild ponies. She also produced my love for the Morgan horse breed. In short…my entire life revolved around horses.
Every September, my mom would ask me and my brother for our Christmas lists so she could complete her shopping before the rush. That year she approached me with a choice. I could have my usual haul of clothes, toys, and books, or I could have horseback riding lessons. My face lit up at the thought of getting to be around the real thing. It was really quite an easy choice, and one that would end up changing my life.
I have to admit to being a bit melancholy leading up to Christmas morning. While thrilled at the idea of learning how to ride, I was also a bit sad that I would be watching everyone else open presents while I had none. I was perfectly OK with it, though. I had made my choice. I knew that riding lessons weren’t cheap, so I was very grateful to have the opportunity.
My brother had already sorted the presents into piles when I went down the stairs and into the living room that Christmas day. I was shocked to see four wrapped packages next to my fuzzy, red stocking. I told my mom that I wasn’t expecting to get any presents, and she said “You didn’t really think I’d let you have nothing to open on Christmas, did you?”
I remember those gifts very clearly. A pair of jeans. A shirt. A package of socks. And a Brenda Breyer Gift Set that contained an appaloosa model horse, a doll, and a bareback pad and bridle. I still have the gift set and all of my childhood model horses. My mom had no idea that those riding lessons would spark a passion within me that led to earning two equine-related college degrees and a ten year career teaching riding to others. While it’s no longer my profession, horses remain a big part of my life and it’s all due to a very special Christmas present.
Today it isn't really a secret who shared this memory with you. Do you have similar memories? Or something altogether different you like to tell us? Opinions? Thoughts?
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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