Donna O'Donnell Figurski's Blog

It's All About Me!

TidBits About Donna #10 A Horse With a Sense of Purpose

A horse stepped on me and I never told my mother — well not until recently. My grade school friend, Cheryl, owned a horse and sometimes after school or on Saturday we went riding. The first time I went with Cheryl, we rode the horses in a corral. Actually, we were jumping the horses — just little jumps. I did well. I was proud of myself. I was fearless.

Then Cheryl showed my horse the whip and he freaked out. Can’t blame him! He whinnied and pranced around. Then I freaked out! Can’t blame me!  Next, without warning, my horse bolted towards the barn. Uh oh … the barn entrance had a very low clearance and my sitting atop the horse would not clear it. Visions of the headless horseman from Washington Irving’s story titled, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow raged through my brain. I did not like the image of me carrying my head around in the crook of my elbow for the rest of my life.

Before I could even think, I had an idea. Admittedly, in retrospect, it was not a good one, but it was the best I could muster as seconds passed and the barn door loomed closer. I did not want to be astride the horse as he neared his destination. And so I did what anybody would do … I jumped off.

My timing wasn’t great. As I threw my leg over the horse’s back, he went airborn. Between the horse and the barn door was the fence encircling the corral, which I had forgotten about. I guess it was only about four feet tall, but to me atop that horse galloping at full speed, it may as well have been to the moon. I was only a novice rider – I was not ready for this marathon jump.  So as my horse went up, I went down – under him.

When he landed, his foot grazed my leg. I was lucky that he didn’t crush it – or me for that matter. I was lucky that my leg didn’t break. Oh it was plenty black and blue and swollen for days. I hobbled around, but only when I was not in my mother’s sight. Then I pretended everything was all right. Like I said, my mother never knew. If she found out, she would have never let me go horseback riding again.

Actually, I didn’t ride much after that. Occasionally, as an adult, I rode my father’s horses when I visited Erie. And there was also a particularly memorable horse, named Pounder that I rode in Phoenix, Arizona with my sister-in-law, Carol. I spent a year at the chiropractor after spending an afternoon with him. Pounder’s name fit him well.


January 26, 2010 - Posted by | Anything Writing, TidBits About Donna

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Fight Stroke

Resources for stroke patients, caregivers, and family members

FindingStrengthToStandAgain's Blog

Overcoming obstacles with Optimism

Braingirl and Next Doors Cat

Life after Traumatic Brain Injury

101 Books

Reading my way through Time Magazine's 100 Greatest Novels since 1923 (plus Ulysses)

Miss Clara's Corner

Be the change you wish to see in the world -Gandhi

Views from a Window Seat

Jeannine Atkins on Writing and Stuff

making our way

Making our way in the mountains

In An Instant Your Life Can Change Forever

Brain Injury Association of Massachusetts Blog

%d bloggers like this: