The Dump

Rush

What do a nurse, a neurosurgeon, and a lawyer all have in common?
They've all held people's fates in their hands.
They've all held reins in their hands.
They all spend their weekends at the little red barn beside the general store.

You see the place, see the children learning to ride, and think what innocence.
What quaintness, horseback riding in this day and age.
But you don't realize how much work, pain, and even tears goes into it.
You don't realize the elation, the adrenaline rush that comes out of it.

That, I suspect, is why they're here.
They're given so much power on a daily basis.
But if they can handle such a beautiful, powerful animal, they can handle it.
It proves something to have such a deep bond with something that could kill you.

This tiny, worn little barn under the oak trees is a safe haven.
For busy people who need something peaceful, you might think.
Can't you see we're all junkies here?
The overwhelmed college student, the acclaimed surgeon, even the little disabled girl.

We come to conquer our chaos.
To saddle it and bridle it and tell it what a good boy it is.
"Hop!" We say, and off we rush, as we do every day.
But today that vehicle is alive, with hooves that feel as if they hardly touch the ground.

The horse exults in it as we do, feels as we feel.
He takes in our eagerness, shares it.
Takes in our sadness, soothes it.
In the end he is calm, as if we have not just shared a little piece of ourselves with him.