horse ride

Sitting astride a caramel horse, inside a community hall, waiting while other people readied themselves with their horses. My horse, impatient to run, suddenly cantered out the door into a field of long grass. I rode with my left hand high in the air, my right holding onto the saddle. I didn't have any reins. I steadied myself using my body weight and slowly brought down my left hand to join my right, gripping the saddle fast. I wondered about the horse's hooves striking something unforeseen in the grass - a snake, a rock, a hole - but the horse ran with confidence. I began to enjoy the ride, not knowing where we would go. We rode through the rain: a stone-grey sky against yellow grass. We approached a low-set, rambling wooden house and rode up the balcony stairs, through the front door, along the hall past the kitchen and came to a stop near a second balcony where my family was gathered. I felt pleased and liberated after the ride. I jumped off the horse and it trotted away, back outside, into the grass. I noticed the horse had left a small puddle on the timber floor, but I was not concerned. I simply cleaned it up.