Seeing the old children's saddle in the old tack shed covered with the dust of history brought back the memories of a little girl's dreams. Picking it up and wiping it off I took it from its perch carting it home to Nebraska.
But it didn't belong. It needed to be loved, dreamed in and used. Creating memories in the imagination of a little girl or boy carrying them toward all that life has for them.
My sister's little girl is just that dreamer who needed a saddle just for her. So back to South Dakota it went. It was in desperate need of love, labor and use.
My brother in law sent me the picture of the rebuilt, cleaned and oiled little saddle. Surprised by the burst of emotion that ran down my face as it took me back to the dreams of a little girl.
I was a little girl and My Grandpa, I had been told was coming to see us. I kept watch from our basement house window well that faced the drive way waiting for him to come.
In my mind's I can still see that pickup with the old stock racks with a little Shetland pony within and a little saddle cinched to the front panel.
Rumor has it that it was his saddle when he was a boy growing up in South Dakota. I wish it could talk!
My horse. My saddle. The horse was awful and would love nothing more then rubbing me against the corral or running under a low tree branch to knock me off. I rode him through the sale ring. With Dad beside me I rode the little horse in a circle and got off.
He took the saddle and we walked away.
That old little saddle was my pride and my joy. Even when I was older
and would be oiling saddles...I treated it with special care. Every piece and flap of leather was given attention.
The saddle went on Cheta-the old large mare. Then Jingles-the stubborn young man where the saddle had twine tied around the horn connected with a paddle at the other end.
The saddle carried me on constant adventures. I was a Rodeo Queen, a princess riding side saddle, a (cap gun) pistol packing sharp shooter with holster, a cowgirl, and a trick rider.
Sometimes I was just me.
Then I graduated from the saddle.
That saddle carried all five of my sisters and their own dreams on their adventures.
I'll never forget those little girls pushing this saddle up the side of a horse. Watching them grab the stirrup and climb the leg of some old tall horse to get in it.
My boys rode in it when they were little. Little nieces and nephews led around the yard hanging on with excitement.
It is the only saddle of our childhood to survive the fire that took everything last year.
It is the only saddle of our childhood to survive the fire that took everything last year.
Now...it is ready to hit the road again.
Carrying another little girl forward to the dreams in her head.
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