To pet a horse

Just to touch it, breathe in the scent of its coat, maybe run your fingers through its mane? What it was like to stand by a fence just watching the horses? Watching their movements and gestures, dreaming of what it would feel like to gallop across a meadow full of flowers?

I dreamed for years before I was allowed to start riding lessons, and I remember those dreams well. At the nearest stable, Søremen, the horses would graze in the large summer pastures. I especially remember a chestnut mare with a black foal. I thought the black foal had to be Black Beauty, and that the wide meadows must offer a happy upbringing.

For a long time, I had been watching the horses my aunt’s neighbour owned. I remember clearly the day I finally stretched over the gate and petted one of them on the neck. It was a trotter. The neck felt so soft and warm against my fingers. It had to be a warmblood, I thought.

When I got older, I started hanging around the riding school. I did all sorts of chores in the stable just to be near the horses. I scrubbed muck from the water troughs, swept, cleaned the stalls, and hoped.

Hoped that I would get to brush a horse, pet it, maybe one day walk it around the stable or in the riding arena.

One day, I got to be the caretaker for the horse Strandmai. I finally had a horse to care for and give my love to. She went lame and couldn’t be ridden for a while. I remember the walks in the winter darkness, on sparkling ice-covered roads, with the winter stillness and frosty breath visible under the floodlights.

As a teenager, I had several horses on loan. I also went to riding camp.

As an adult, I have had all the opportunities I dreamed of as a child. In the stable I have had magical moments, but also the difficult days and the decisions that come with them.

Even though I don’t ride anymore today, I still stop to watch horses in the pastures, horses galloping by, happy in a herd or playful in their private paddocks.

I stand there, listening to the sounds of horses, life and joy, and I remember what it feels like to place my hand on a warm, soft neck.

And to dream.