If I were a Horse

When I was a child I would dream about one day becoming a horse.  Some children want to grow up and be doctors or actors but all I wanted to be was a Thoroughbred, Arabian, or Morgan.  My brother, David, and I would run around our pasture (my parents had 20 acres at the time), with one little stick in each hand so we could have four legs, imagining ourselves to be graceful and powerful horses.  We would spend hours describing the color of horse we would be.  My favorite colors were a silver gray or creamy palomino although a burning red bay would have been acceptable too. occasionally, I would try to widen the scope of our play and say I was a flying horse or a unicorn or even more daringly a flying unicorn, at which point david would balk, draw a line, make up some new rules and say that, "no, you cannot be a flying horse or unicorn!"  I would question his judgment, as all good little sisters do, and demand to know why I couldn't be something as beautiful as a flying unicorn would be.  He would respond by saying  " flying horses and unicorns are not real!"  This logic would always end the argument at that time, but now if I could I would say, "Well, we aren't really horses yet we are pretending to be them! what is the difference if what you are pretending to be is impossible to be, why not be whatever you want to be.  Besides elves aren't real but you will pretend to be an elf."  I don't know if that would win the argument, some arguments just can't be won by either side.  Part of me believes that maybe, possibly, David didn't want to be a flying unicorn because it was outside the spectrum of manliness.  Elves on the other hand lay snuggly on the safe side of masculinity.  While David would pretend, if he didn't like it or it wasn't real then you couldn't do it.  Maybe if I hadn't insisted on having rainbow wings he would have allowed me to stretch, soar a little more with my imagination...

Later in life, when I was  no longer of the age where I could run around with two sticks in my hand without causing some concern for my mental welfare, I would dream about finding a valley.  one that had some how been missed by all the explorers, pioneers and satellites.  To help explain this dream, I feel I need to pause and inform the reader of something I have always valued/found fascinating about myself... I am part native american, somewhere between 1/4th and 1/8th... is that possible?.  don't laugh... I have had someone laugh at me before, probably because I look so English.  I am part Native American, running threw my blood are the native nations of Cherokee, Choctaw and Creek.  As a child I loved knowing this about myself.  There was something that drew me, still draws me, to the Native American culture.  Part of the romance of the Native American, for me, is their belief in Nature and the spiritual connection you can have with it.  I believe there is a spiritual connection with Nature that is healing and calming, I love it.  Another aspect of the Native American culture that I admired was their ability... at least as a child I believed it was their ability,...to walk softly in the forest.  It was something my dad tried to teach us, placing your feet gently, heal to toe so that no noise was made. It was part of becoming one with your surroundings, so that you could be trusted by the animals in the forest. My father thought that if he could teach us to walk quietly nature would come to us, but I don't know how successful we were because I don't remember seeing many woodland creatures on our walks. And so, as a child I had an image in my mind of what a true Native American was.  Someone who could blend with the shadows, softly and gently walking the forest floor, nary a twig, branch, pine needle, or leaf crunching (everything that crunched under my own feet).  They were one with the earth and all of mother nature having an unspoken language with all animals, all plants that grew, even the soil and mountains would know their footsteps and the touch of their hands as they grew the food they needed to eat.  In a few words, they were everything I wanted to be, graceful and elfish, at least, everything I wanted to be if I couldn't be a horse.

The Valley was as perfect as my imagination could make it... the grass was tall, green and soft... a perfect hiding place for a child and also, happily defunct of bugs and any other creeping or crawling uncomfortable creatures, perfectly safe...  therefore,  it was mysterious and inviting...there was a waterfall on one end of the valley with a small cool stream, clear and talkative, running through the valley floor... it was there that I would build a small cabin on a grassy knoll above the pool created by the falling water... I also, never worried about food, maybe I ate grass, I am not sure for in dreams, there are no limits created by impossibilities.  On the opposite side of the valley there would be a herd of wild horses, beautiful, strong, intelligent, graceful and wild.  I would live among them and eventually they would allow me to become one of them (these were poopless horses)...soon after my initiation into the herd, somebody, usually my parents and a few others would always come looking for me.  My family was always led by my crush, my knight, my hero of the day.  He would lead my family with certain knowledge,( born from the love he had for me) of where I was, and with energy he would search for the girl ( I was only ten) of his dreams ... Hearing them coming I would run away... not wanting or desiring civilized life... wanting only the cool comfort of my stream, the tall grass to dream in, and the wild horses to run with... of course, only the brave boy would see me and come chasing after me through the tall grass...slipping silently but quickly on light feet through the trees... my little body flickered in and out of view... my graceful and small calves showing to best advantage as I ran... and just... just when we had made eye contact and without speaking, vowed an undying and eternal love, he would reach for me and try to capture me.  But still preferring the wild life to being captured by my true love, I would turn and run away with my wild horses and as I ran I would mysteriously and magically transform into a beautiful silver gray filly... leaving the boy alone and wondering .

but it never happened...

ps
this particular prince charming also sat at my bedside weeping because i was dying of scarlet fever... i don't know if this was post anne of greene gables or not