Growing up I spent a lot of time with my friend Jessie. Not only was Jessie a ton of fun to hang out with, she also had a pool! Oh, and her barn was in her backyard, too.
Those poor ponies. Those poor tolerant bratty ponies. On long summer days Jessie and I would ride them no less than 3 times a day, usually bareback, and at least one or two of those rides would include a hell-bent-for-leather race from the furthest corner of the hay field all the way back to the barn. The question always became whether or not you would be able to stop before your pony started skidding across the concrete barn aisle.
Then we’d jump back in the pool for few hours and repeat the whole process again. It was heaven!
One night Jessie and I got it in our heads that her medium pony Sam (Sam I Am) and her small pony Tiki (Tiki Me) should get married. We groomed and brushed and clipped and painted feet – more attention than either of us had probably collectively ever paid to the appearance of a pony – preparing them for a morning wedding. I was secretly hoping maybe they’d just elope that night, but alas they were still there in the morning.
At some point Jessie’s mom ventured out into the warm twilight night and demanded we leave the helpless beasts alone and eat dinner. Sigh. I guess even wedding planners need their rest before the big day, too.
The next morning we dressed the bride and groom in their wedding finery – a couple of fly sheets – and Jessie’s mom performed the ceremony. Instead of exchanging rings, they exchanged miniature stuffed horses, extracted from my vast collection of plush animals.
Wedding over, time for the reception. We quickly donned our bathing suits, took the ponies for a honeymoon race around the hayfield, and jumped into the pool.
Ahhh… to be a kid again 🙂