Where does a dream begin? How does it develop into something one must pursue? Is it ever too late to take action on pursuing this dream? 

I’ve had a dream my whole life — literally as far back as I can remember. This is Part 1 of my farm dream story:  

As a kid growing up in the Los Angeles suburbs I longed to live on a farm with horses. Corrals, pastures, wide open spaces to ride off alone, just me and my equine best friend, was what I dreamed of nearly every day of my life. I don’t know why or even where this idea came from because I hadn’t been exposed to horses or farms, except on TV. I knew kids who would visit their relatives on farms – always in the Midwest, it seemed. Eventually I married one of those kids.

Even as a preschooler I begged my daddy for a pony constantly but the best he could do was take me to the pony rides on Arrow Highway on weekends. Even though the ponies were attached to the wheel and had no choice but to trudge around in circles, I pretended that I would help the pony I was riding to escape all that drudgery. “Around this bend, Smoky, just jump over that rail and run as fast as you can . . . and you’ll be mine forever and ever.” I think I whispered this softly rather than just thinking it in my head, not caring if anyone heard me or not. But Smoky didn’t escape and I would say my goodbyes when I had to leave. I believed those ponies loved me because I understood them and their plight.

As I got older my passion for horses continued. Dad and I would rent horses at the local stable and ride on the trails in the hills near our home. We each had our favorites. Daisy, the gentle grey mare, was mine and Goldie, the prancing Palomino, was Dad’s. We went nearly every weekend for several years until one day my dad surprised me with the sweetest words ever spoken, “Where do you want to go first?” He reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve several newspaper clippings of horses for sale in our area. I didn’t know what to think, I was stunned and happy, as happy as I had ever been in my entire twelve years of life. The joy I felt from a lifetime of begging, please buy me a horse, hearing my dad repeat the same phrase always, “I wish I could, you know I would if we only had the money to board a horse,” was beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

We discovered there is a learning curve for finding the right horse for an inexperienced twelve-year-old. Eventually we found the horse that became my best friend for the next four years.

My life outside of school revolved around the stable and my best friend, Amigo, a beautiful buckskin colored gelding.

Now, forty-eight years later, I am about to embark on my farm dreams–for real, finally, which proves it’s never too late to follow one’s dream.

Stay Tuned, Continued – Part 2 (Horses into Adulthood)