Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

I have always believed there are lines of connectivity that are outside our five senses. There are threads out there in the universe that connect in ways we don't fully understand. The following story is one of those things.

 A few weeks ago, a friend of mine approached me to help her find a reining horse. She was quite specific…she wanted a four year old mare, well bred, trained and suitable for her level of riding. I immediately told her it could be hard to find but I knew of one possibility. I checked with the trainer and the mare was still available. After much interaction re: texts, photos and videos with the both the trainer and me, she committed to buying the mare. Since the pretty dun mare was entered in a reining show in Alberta, Sherry chose that time to make the trip to see her and to arrange a ride back to BC. Before the show, though, Sherry and her husband parked their motor home in my yard and we caught up. It had been 16 years!

 The first day here, we saddled my mares and rode. It was a beautiful day and at one point, we stopped and talked for quite some time, sitting in the sun on our horses. Sherry was not quite happy with the barn name her new mare had been given and we discussed that a bit before the conversation shifted to stories of our childhood and how we grew up. Sherry's mind was very much on her father, who she had just lost, and many memories were of him.

  "We didn't have much money," she said, "but one day Dad and I were in downtown Calgary, and we walked by peaches for sale. Dad said, 'Go ahead and pick a peach.'"

 But Sherry was hesitant, having never ate a peach before because they were expensive and not something the family could afford. Hesitantly, she picked out a little peach.

 "No," her dad said. "Pick a peach, a good one!" and he reached in and chose the biggest, fattest peach and gave it to his daughter, who bit into the delicious fruit. Sherry remembers with absolute clarity walking away, juice running down her chin, holding her dad's hand and looking at him like he had hung the moon.

 From the beginning of her story, the hair rose on my arms. Finally, when she reached that point of her story, I had to say something.

 "Sherry," I said. "It's gotta be "Peach"! Don't you see? It has already been decided."

Because, you see, the registered name of the mare she had just bought was Einsteins Peach and Sherry had "picked a peach".

I'm sure her father is smiling.

 

 Below, in Sherry's words, is the story.