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Several of my daughter’s friends have had weekend retreats when they turned sixteen. Last spring I asked my daughter what she wanted to do for her 16th birthday. Did she want a big party or maybe want to have a couple of friends out to a cabin in the San Juans?

“Mom, I want to go riding.” she said, “Just you and me.”

Wow. Little did she know this was a gift for me too. The fact that she wanted to ride with ME, was in itself a present. And though I haven’t gone horseback riding in years, it is something I love to do. Yesterday we finally made it happen.

When we arrived, our trail guide said, “My wife said you guys are experienced and want to run a lot.” There was tension in the air, an excited tension.

“Well, I haven’t really ridden in years and my daughter has taken lessons and gone to camp, so they don’t pick it up much, but we’re game.”

We made it to the top of the mountain for lunch. Some of the ride was walking and some of it…flying. My daughter’s face was aglow and not because of the breathtaking view of Mt. Rainier.

My body had remembered how to move, to feel the rhythm of the horse (most of the time). The sounds slowed in my mind. The horses breath, the squeak of the leather saddle, the bear bells ringing against my stirrup. I loved it.

On the way down we took the steep Knee Knocker trail until we reached a creek. We let the horses drink. I smiled at the sound of the water sucking through the bit. We had been on the mountain for 4 1/2 hours.

“Would you like to take the direct route the rest of the way and go slowly or a take a longer route and pick up the pace?” the guide asked.

“It’s up to you.” I said to my daughter. I had been riding behind her, watching her, and wondering. Was she getting tired? Is she still aglow?

She looked at me, perhaps wondering if her old mom could keep up. I was in. I answered her questioning look, “Whatever you want to do.”

With eyes wide and bright, she said.”Let’s take the long road.”

We flew down the winding trail. Bending around trees, dropping into gulleys, hopping over logs and prancing back up muddy slopes until we reigned the horses in near the bottom of the mountain. It was then that my daughter turned in her saddle, face square with mine and spoke. Her voice was slow and crisp.

“Mom, that was the best birthday EVER.”

 

WRITING PROMPT: Write about your best birthday ever or about a time that you remember “flying”.