Category: Living

For one to fly, one needs only to take the reins.

Melissa James

From an early age, this former city girl has always loved horses. I grew up listening to the stories of my mother and grandparents, especially the Western tales of ranch life filled with wide-open spaces, hard work, and loyal horses. Generations of my mother’s family owned and raised these wondrous creatures; a love for horses ran through our family like a shared inheritance. In many ways, it felt woven into our DNA. My grandfather was not only a rancher but also a skilled horse trader. During World War I, he served his country by breaking horses for the Army, relying on his saddle and steady hands to prepare them for service. His father and grandfather before him also raised horses, proudly earning ribbons at county and state fairs throughout Ohio.

Growing up in California, I had only a handful of chances to ride, but I cherished every one. One of my favorite places was the stables at Half Moon Bay, where I rode a spirited horse named Rowdy. True to his name, he was full of energy, and I loved racing him along the sandy shoreline with the ocean breeze in my face. Those moments felt like freedom itself. I eagerly anticipated each visit, even as I quietly dreamed of owning a horse of my own someday.

In time, that dream became a reality when I received Beau as a birthday gift from Leslie’s dad, David. Beau was the perfect horse for this former city girl, gentle yet strong, patient and loyal. I loved my “baby” from the moment I met him. We bonded quickly, and he became a constant presence in my life. Even while I worked in the yard, I often let him out of his pen, trusting him completely. True to his nature, Beau stayed close by, content simply to be near me.

Over the years, he became far more than a horse. He was my best friend and my confidant. He knew secrets I never shared with anyone else and seemed to understand when words failed me. Beau had a quiet way of listening, of offering comfort and reassurance when my world felt uncertain or turned upside down. Even now, after all these years, I still miss my faithful friend.

Today, I am no longer able to ride due to a back injury and balance issues, but my love for horses has never faded. I visit them whenever I can, drawn to their gentle strength and familiar presence. And sometimes, in my dreams, I ride again, astride a black beauty with a white-blazed face and four white socks. We move in companionable silence until we reach the open lands near Brush Hollow. Then, once more, we soar along prairie trails, flying as one, our manes flowing freely in the wind.

Beau and Leslie , 1988

Brush Hollow Reservoir – Penrose, Colorado

Photo by Lindsey Bidwell on Unsplash