by Margaret Merrill

Created on: July 30, 2008   Last Updated: June 25, 2009

Many, many moons ago, when I was a little girl, I used to be a Girl Scout who desperately wanted to learn how to ride a horse. I went to camp EVERY summer, and I loved it, for many reasons; my friends, the tents, the woods, the S'mores and the HORSES. I loved riding the horses every summer. Especially the big chestnut colored one, Bessie. But this is a story about the best horseback riding experience I had, in my first summer camp.

As a seven year old Brownie, it had been difficult to get my mother to let me attend camp. My best friend Trish had gotten her parents involved, as well as two other mothers, and I had gotten both sets of my grandparents involved. I have a disability, and my mom was simply trying her hardest to make sure I was safe.

I arrived at camp, scared and worried that I was going to be bored, and desperately wanting to ride a horse. And I seriously doubted that I would ever be allowed to do so because of my mother. I stood in the mess hall with my friends Trish, Trina and Monica as we waited to see what things we had been assigned to do.

"Salem's Brownies! Margaret, Trish, Trina and Monica, your first activity for the week will be Horseback Riding, then you will have" I did not hear another word as I tried not to scream out loud, and I looked at Trish. I jumped up and down, again and again. My eyes were wide, and I was HAPPY. Taking a deep breath, we waited as everyone else got their assignments, and we broke out to go to our different areas so we could go to sleep.

Early the next morning, the four of us quickly, but quietly made our way down to the horse barn. My eyes were wide as saucers, and Trish was watching me like a hawk. So were the counselors, but I didn't care.

The trainer, Ginny, introduced herself and the assistant trainer, Lisa, telling us briefly that we would learn the basics about the horses that day. And that we meet our horses today, but that we would saddle our horses tomorrow.

I raised my hand gingerly. Ginny nodded at me.

"Yes?"

"Do we get to pick our own horses, or do you do that?" My voice wobbled.

"I have a pretty good idea who will go with who already because of information the parents sent, but let's see if I'm wrong. I'm usually pretty good at picking the right horse."

I nodded, and didn't say anything. I didn't really care; I just wondered.

One by one, Ginny took us to different horses. And each horse seemed to match each girl, except one. Finally, it was my turn. We came to Bessie, a beautiful, if slightly older, chestnut

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