Daddy said “yes” and everything changed.
The exact day and time and final winning argument to which he succumbed have become a bit hazy in the last 40 years. Crystal clear, however, is the fact that Daddy’s “yes” has made all the difference in the path of my life.
Daddy said yes to a horse. Technically, a Welsh Mountain pony, but 14.1 hand Blue Boy never knew a horse upon which he couldn’t look down. Blue Boy ruled the pasture and my heart from the time we were united when we’d both just turned 8, until his death at age 32. He still holds a part of my heart that no other horse can nudge, nicker or puppy-dog-eyes his way into.
Blue Boy was my best boy at a time when boys were creatures to be avoided at all costs. My parents would let me head off into the great unknown (86-acres of woods with trails that Daddy cut for me) trusting that Blue Boy would bring me home safely should my 8-year-old sense of direction fail. Their trust was well-placed.
Blue Boy did have to navigate some of our return trips home---especially those when I thought it would be a grand plan to ride off the beaten path and explore. We shared countless lunches on our rides. Potato chips were his favorite although he never turned down a peppermint. He insisted on drinking Shasta Lime Soda from my hands (is Shasta even made any more and what possessed my Mama to buy it?) Blue Boy quickly became familiar with which trails led to neighboring farms and the people willing to dole out more sweets to a little girl and her steed. The only real disagreements Blue Boy and I had were when he was determined to visit 89-year-old Miss Clara Head and her stash of sugar lumps and I was determined to head to the bottom lands for a canter, instead.
Over miles and miles and years and years, Blue Boy taught me the finer points of patience and love, responsibility and joy. Mornings spent feeding in 35 degree rain balanced quite happily with 73 degree afternoons spent riding bareback through newly green fields.
Most weekends, Daddy would trail ride with us. Rather, he would trail walk and Blue Boy would fall into step beside him. Problems were solved, stories were told and worries were shared during our “rambles”. Those outings created some of the best and strongest memories I have. Even now when something or someone (usually a child with an upset stomach) yanks me from a deep sleep and I remember my dream, it’s often of a ramble with Daddy and Blue. In those first bleary seconds between sleep and “I’m up”, I swear I can smell that perfect blend of horse and woods and the spearmint Certs Daddy liked to pop.
Time passed, college intervened, then the move to the “big city” of Atlanta for a career as a writer in the ad agency world. It was a fun, exciting new world, but one without pasture space. Fortunately, Daddy and Mama let Blue Boy remain in his perfect retirement pasture while I headed down a new and different trail.
Love, marriage and a beautiful baby boy (no longer considered creatures to be avoided) helped soften the blow when old age finally caught up to my Blue. Another baby (girl!) followed 22 months later.
Work and babies and babies and work left little time for thoughts of horses and riding and greener pastures outside of the city. But no horse person every really forgets the source of such joy. The embers of real horse love live in the corners of the heart, waiting for something to spark the flame again.
Another death was the spark for me.
Daddy lost a hard-fought battle with cancer on January 2, 2000. I couldn’t believe he was gone from this world. I still really can’t. I was numb, angry, sad, depressed and scared--- Mama was diagnosed with cancer 3 months before Daddy died.
For months and months I was in a very dark place. One weekend, my husband took the kids and me to visit his favorite cousins who live on a big farm 2 hours away. They have horses. Lots of horse. With encouragement from Scott and prodding from the kids, I agreed to saddle up and go for a quick ride on one of their horses. That short ride turned into a 4-hour joy ride. Later that night, Scott said, “I haven’t seen you this happy since your Daddy died. You need a horse.”
It was true. Something had shifted inside me that day and started working at the knot that had found a permanent home in my chest since January.
“We don’t have a place for a horse,” I reminded him.
“We’ll work it out,” Scott said. “You need a horse.”
“But…”
“You need a horse.”
“Are you sure…”
“Yes.”
He said yes.
It wasn’t long before we “worked it out” by moving out of Atlanta and back to the country with two kids, one cat and a big puppy dog---Jack, my palomino quarter horse.
Scott’s CPA practice thrived just fine out of the city, but I needed to rethink my work options as ad agencies weren’t exactly an easy commute away.
It’s been said “do something you like and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I knew if I could find a way to combine my creative talent with my love for horses, I’d have the perfect job. Creating a line of unique shirts for horse lovers has opened up that dream position: Executive Boss Mare of Neighsayers Shirts.
I’m very pleased and sometimes a little teary about the #1 selling shirt in the Neighsayers line. The graphic on the shirt is of a horse with a giant bow.
The shirt reads: Daddy Said Yes.
It changes everything.
Blue Boy and me - Both 13 years young
The "Daddy Corner" in my office. My photo. Daughter Carly's artwork from kindergarten of Papa.
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Blue Boy and me - Both 13 years young
