Hotep,
My granddaughter, Tear, has
reached the two-year benchmark of her physical existence. The powerful
connection I feel toward her goes far beyond this earthly realm.
And no benchmark could measure or judge
that. But since the Manns are currently
occupying this earthly space, it’s only right that we share some of our
earliest experiences with the up and coming fruits of our family tree.
Baby girl, through your existence, a ‘Tear’ literally has significance
in my being. I will now, metaphorically,
take a seat at your bedside to ease the tension of the distance between us with
an experience from your G-dad’s past:
I was about 10 years old when my parents took my cousin Zay and
I to Alabama to visit my Moms’ cousins.
The land they lived on was vast; trees were everywhere. I could remember
thinking, “Cousin Alice owns her own forest.”
Now, in my youth, children were taught to stay out of grown
people’s business. So as my parents and
adult cousins socialized, Zay and I were directed toward the front door of the
house and into this landscape of wilderness.
For two kids from the city, that is an open invitation to be adventurous
without regard.
A dirt road speckled with gravel separated the house from a
huge pasture. In the distance, Zay and I
could see two horses. I can’t give you
an accurate description of their color patterns, Baby Girl, but I can tell you;
up until that point, I had never seen a horse exude independence.
I mean, Zay and I were accustomed to seeing the
mean-spirited police horses in the city.
Huge horses with a blue blanket draping their backs that read, “Police.”
Whenever you saw one coming, you instinctively got out of their way. But, the two beautiful creatures before us
were different. We were intrigued by
them –wanted to touch them.
They moved freely – without saddles and a loud-mouthed
rider, wearing a leather jacket and swinging a baton. These horses walked when they preferred
rather than gallop. Zay and I were
convinced that they were just as curious about us as we were about them. So we decided that we would mount and ride
them. SMH.
Two kids from the city can really get creative when they
think as one. We discovered a shed
nearby, and found some grain to feed to the horses. We poured the food in a trough, situated at
the border of the enclosure. The
liberated horses slowly made their was toward us. Zay and I could barely stand still; we were
overwhelmed with excitement.
The plan was to wait until the horses became so occupied
with the feed, that we would be able to inconspicuously climb the wooden
enclosure, and then mount the horses before they realized what was
happening. SMH. Originally it struck me as a great plan, but
I did have one reservation. I asked Zay,
“How are we going to hold on when we start riding?” For the life of me, I can’t tell you how my
cousin Zay convinced me that he knew so much about horses.
He responded in a true ‘horse whisperer’ fashion, “just hold
on to his mane. If you want him to go
left – just pull left; if you want him to go right – pull to the right. If you want him to stop – pull
backwards.” Needless to say, these
horses had no intention of being ridden.
They came just close enough to the enclosure, to entice us into jumping
that wooden fence. I’ll just say this:
the vigorous legs of a city kid are no match for a horse with a free
spirit. It wasn’t about to happen, Baby
girl. Feel me?
When we trekked back across that gravel-speckled dirt road
to return to the house, we were instructed to stay outside. Not because the adults were still
socializing. It had everything to do
with the fact that Zay and I were shin deep in mud and manure. Real talk.
Everything was brown from the shins down. LOL
Just another side of your G-dad I thought you should hear,
“straight from the horses mouth.” I love
you, Tear. Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!!
Loving You,
G-dad
Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann
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