"Father! You've made me the happiest gehl who ever lived!" exclaims Lisa Simpson as she canters past Homer in the episode where Homer must take up two jobs just to pay for the pony he buys for his daughter.
With three other siblings and only one income as it was, I shoulda known. I never shoulda got my hopes up that I would ever have a pony of my own. But it didn't ever stop me poring for hours on a Saturday with The Age Classifieds, trusty highlighter in hand, circling suitable steeds in the hopes that one day... one day one of my parents would let up and succumb to my subtle (and more often, not so subtle) nagging. The carefully placed newspaper, folded open to a page with half a dozen or more personally picked horses, would greet Dad every weekend.
I had forgotten all about this chapter (this very long, very stoic chapter) in my young life until I went to dinner the other night for my friend's 30th. Remember? Her older sister was there who I haven't seen since I was about 14, and let me tell you, she used to be my idol. I looked up to her for one reason and one reason alone: she had a HORSE! And a saddle. And a bridle and a hat and went to Pony Club!! Ohhhh, I shook just standing near her and her grooming kit and jodhpurs. She had me at hello. Ok, well not quite, but my God I envied her. Lots.
It was in the grip of this horsey-mania that one very special Christmas, I thought all my pleas had been answered. I graciously received all my presents. But like the fanatic I was, and knowing all the effort I'd put in to writing to Santa and circling the horses and what-not, I just knew this was the year when all my hanging around at pony club gymkhanas was going to pay off. And then those magical words from Mum: "Close your eyes and come outside with me." I could feel a pony comin' on.
I clearly remember shutting my eyes as tightly as I could, just in case there was a deal-breaker clause I didn't know about like "you caught a glimpse of the ground through your slightly parted eye lashes! Cheat! You don't get your last present now!" I did everything right. I obediently went outside, trembling.... and secretly awed at how Dad had been able to keep my pony standing still; I hadn't heard one clip-clop on the driveway yet. Wow! He must be an exceptionally obedient pony waiting out there for me, I was thinking.
And then, with edge-of-your-seat anticipation, the moment came: "Ok, Kirrily, open your eyes. Ta-da!" I could hard look, I didn't want to peek. Was it tall? Was it tan? Was it the full 14.1 hands high pony I'd been diligently pointing out in the paper every weekend for a year?
No. Actually it was red. Red with sparkles. "A brand new bike seat!" they exclaimed excitedly, with as much enthusiasm as that old granny in The Wedding Singer who gives Adam Sandler the meatballs. I tried not to look crestfallen. After all, this wasn't just SO not my pony. This was my OLD bike, just with a new seat added. Ok, so first, I went to the Melbourne Cup that year (and I may or may not have been wearing my pastel rainbow overalls - dressy yet practical, in case one of the stewards needed anyone to, y'know, ride a racehorse for them) and missed out on riding ANYTHING, and now this.
That Christmas was a great Christmas. Those were the holidays where I perfected the art of the simulated trot, on my bike, with the new seat, and my skipping rope tied around the handlebars for reins.
1 comment:
I wanted a pony too when I was young. Which was pretty dumb of me because I was scared of horses, I just thought the jodphurs and boots looked pretty cool. On my birthday dad came home and said "so does that horse in the front yard belong to us?" I looked out the window and sure enough there was a horse there. My first reaction was "MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT!!!" and a split second later I thought "but it's the ugliest horse I've ever seen" and I was heartbroken.
Luckily for me, the horse had escaped from the paddock 6 doors down and decided to park itself in our front yard. After that I stopped nagging my parents for a horse.
Now at 31 years of age, I'm still scared of horses...
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