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post #71 of 82 Old 02-18-2014, 06:13 PM
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It's not that I lost interest, it's that I haven't had time to 1) think of an idea and 2) type it all out. Unfortunately, real life has to take precedence over writing *sigh* :( I promise I'd rather be doing this than statistics homework.

Anyway, tonight I finally have a free minute, so here goes...


Meg lay in her bed that night, her new puppy Star snoring softly at her feet. When her dad had asked her about therapeutic riding this morning, she needed more time to think about it.

She had long come to terms with the fact that horses hadn't ruined her life, she had. Although she couldn't communicate this to her parents, they must know that she had paid dearly for her life of entitlement.

At the same time, she was afraid. Sure, she had been confident (cocky) when she was healthy and could move. But now, in her reduced state, how would she even stay on the horse? What if the horse ran away with her, like Zolan had a lifetime ago? But most of all, she was afraid this would just be another pointless therapy session.

If she was honest with herself, Meg had given up hope. She was never going to be able to wiggle the fingers of her right hand, much less walk or talk. She was going to be a burden for her parents for the rest of her life, unless by some miracle she died. And a puppy or a pony ride wasn't going to change anything.

She began the painstakingly slow process of pushing herself up far enough to take the magazine from the pet shop off of her nightstand. The girl on the bay pony and her two sidewalkers smiled up at her, almost inviting her to try it for herself.

"At this point, what do I have to lose?" She thought.

A horse is a mirror to your soul. And sometimes you may not like what you see. - Buck Brannaman
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post #72 of 82 Old 02-19-2014, 06:44 PM
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The next day, after spending quite some time trying to get her parents to understand Meg's desire to try the therapeutic horse riding, the family of 3 were on their way to the local centre that Delia had mentioned before.

Once they got there they were welcomed by a elderly woman with a gentle smile called Ms. Lewis, a few minutes later Meg was wheeled over to the stables where they picked a helmet and body protector, then after a horse was saddled up and a little bit of struggle, Meg was mounted upon a old gelding, named Pickles, for the first time in what seemed years.
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post #73 of 82 Old 02-22-2014, 01:30 PM
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Fear gripped Meg as the horse began to move. With her working right hand, she held tightly to the handle that was attached to the front of the saddle.

Two middle-aged women walked beside her, holding onto the belt that the instructor had placed around her waist. The one on her left, with a mess of curly hair, smiled up at her, "I'm Lisa. You're Meg, right? Nice to meet you."

Although Meg had no means of communication other than looking at the woman and nodding, Lisa continued, "On your other side is Pam, and leading Pickles is Beatrice." They both smiled at her and said hello. Lisa continued to chatter on about the weather and Meg's outfit and Star, and Meg didn't mind at all, even enjoyed it. It had been a long time since she had had a real conversation, consisting of more than whether she was hungry or needed to use the bathroom.

She realized that Lisa had been trying to take her mind off her nervousness with all of this talk, and it had worked. Meg was more relaxed than she ever felt in her wheelchair or bed, and felt Pickle's motion carry her around the arena. Reminds me of walking.

Slowly, the corners of Meg's mouth turned upward. "I see a smile!" Pam said, grinning herself. "You're enjoying your ride?"

Meg nodded. "Want to go outside?" Beatrice asked. "We can go around the therapy trail."

A horse is a mirror to your soul. And sometimes you may not like what you see. - Buck Brannaman

Last edited by faiza425; 02-22-2014 at 01:30 PM. Reason: Grammatical error :)
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post #74 of 82 Old 03-11-2014, 02:16 AM Thread Starter
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Meg nodded as clearly as she could. "Alright then," Pam said and they lead Meg into the directon of dense trees with a path cutting through the underbrush. Star trotted alongside Pickles' side as fast as her baby legs could. The three woman chatted all the way to a pond in a clearing. Meg watched as Star and Pickles drank water, side by side.
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post #75 of 82 Old 03-11-2014, 02:21 PM
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Its such a great story !! I love it !
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post #76 of 82 Old 03-14-2014, 03:38 AM Thread Starter
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"Would you like to help groom Pickles?" Pam asked in the barn. Meg nodded. She was pushed over to a half asleep Pickles in cross ties. Pam handed her a brush and Meg akwardly gripped the special handle. "Go ahead. I'll help you," Pam said with a big smile. Meg lifted her hand. Just as she reached high enough, she dropped the brush. Pam picked it up and handed it back to Meg. Star whined as if cheering Meg on. "Try again," Pam said. Meg lifted the brush and lost her grip again. But, instead of dropping the brush, Meg found that pam was now holding Meg's hand and gripping the brush underneath it. She pushed Meg's hand up to Pickles' side and slowly moved Meg's hand back, then lifting the brush and replacing it to the front, she moved it back again. After about a minute of this, Ppam let go. "Now you try," she said. Meg, a bit more confident and with a better grip, lifted the brush. She slowly moved the brush back and forth, shaking a bit as she did so. Meg's mother noticed her daughter's fingers twiitch on the other hand, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. There was hope after all. Meg was starting to try again.
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post #77 of 82 Old 03-18-2014, 10:12 AM
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Delia looks at her cell phone as it rings and recognizes the number. "Hello?" "Delia?, this is Ms.Elton, am I calling at a bad time?". "No, Ms.Elton, you are fine. What can I do for you?" asked Delia. " I was hoping you were freed up this evening to come over for dinner with us."

As Delia pulled up to the front of the house, there were 2 other cars there that she recognized. As she entered the living room she sees Justin and Mr.Smith standing to greet her. "What's going on? Is there something wrong with Meg?" Delia asks as the fear begins boiling in her body. She can feel the blood drawing back away from the skin and the sinking feeling trying to set in. Her knees have the feel of standing on shaking ground and she can feel the balmy attributes filling the palm of her hands. Justin walks over and puts an arm around her with a smile. " Nothing is wrong with Meg, in fact things are going great with her, so stop fretting and sit down!".

Delia looks over to Mr. Smith who is sitting in the wing back chair that sits between the end of the large couch and the fireplace. He has a glimmer in his eye and a smirkish smile as he is looking back at her. Waiting on one of them to explain what is going on, she looks back to Ms.Elton and asks "ok, what is going on? Why is everyone being so mysterious if everything is ok?" Just as the words finished coming out of her mouth Meg is brought in and stopped close to Delia.

You can see everyone's eyes starting to glare over as they begin to fill with tears. Delia turns and meets Meg eye to eye as she reaches to put her hand on Meg's. " How are you doing, Meg? You look really good and I can see a spark in your face. What is going on here girl and why isn't anyone telling me whats going on?". Meg reaches over and puts her normally good hand on top of Delia's and then pulls her other hand out of her jacket top with a letter in it. She reaches out and places it in Delia's hand that is already starting to shake along with the rest of her body. " Meg! you are moving your are moving your whole arm, Oh My God, Meg!"

Ms.Elton walks over and sits down beside Delia on the couch. " She has been really working hard during her therapy sessions at the horse clinic. Even after only a short time at the first session she started twitching her fingers. The ladies working with her said there have been very few who have shown such drive in such a short time". Justin stands up and crosses the room from the piano seat where he landed as Meg came in. "Delia, one of Meg's therapists is my aunt and she has been keeping me up to date on how shes been doing. I wanted to tell you, but Mr. Smith wanted to wait and see how committed Meg was to do this before getting anyone's hopes up." With no more hesitation, Mr.Smith tells Delia that he was so worried Meg would get bored with it like she did with other things before and not follow through, but she has seemed to get more determined with every session.

Just then Meg pushes the letter at Delia harder as to tell her it is important and wants her to read it now. Delia looks down to see what looks like the writing of a 5 year old. The words are all scribbled and hard to make out, but then she puts them together and is able to read it plain as day.

Delia, I'm sorry for my trouble. Thank you for horse therapy. I will be better. Meg
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Born Once, Die Twice. Born Twice, Die Once.
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post #78 of 82 Old 03-25-2014, 11:28 AM
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And Meg did get better. Gone was the girl with no light in her eyes, the girl who wanted to die. Reflecting back, Meg realized how unhappy she was long before she was in the accident. Maybe, she thought as she steered Pickles through cones set up on the ground, this was the best thing that could ever have happened to me.

Everything was still a struggle. She could use her arms, but she still couldn't walk or speak. She still communicated in nods and scribbled notes.

However, she embraced the struggle now. For once in her life, she had to work at something, she could not get around it or pass it off on someone else. Being disabled had taught her things she never could have known if her legs worked. The essential quality of hard work, the joy of seeing results, the ability to bounce back after getting knocked down were now all instilled in her.
Without her accident, she never would have known what it was like to appreciate a creature that would slowly and carefully carried her in circles but had the power to kill her. She would never have felt the freedom that leaving her wheelchair for a horse's back gave her. Maybe she would have listened to Delia and learned to ride, but she never would have loved it like this.

Horses, she reflected as she stroked Pickle's neck, have made me destroy my life, but allowed me to put it back together much more whole than it was before.
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A horse is a mirror to your soul. And sometimes you may not like what you see. - Buck Brannaman
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post #79 of 82 Old 03-29-2014, 02:01 AM Thread Starter
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That's really_really great guys :)
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post #80 of 82 Old 04-06-2014, 02:10 AM
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I am guessing that's the end? If so it was fantastic! And if you keep it going I will keep on reading!
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