Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Tails From the Farm

Waiting for the Right One

Unlike the girlchild, the boychild didn’t stick with the horses as the years moved along. He didn’t have her natural way with them, nor did he have that ‘horse sense’ that keeps one from getting hurt. He spent many wonderful hours riding his first pony, Chauncey. When he grew out of Chauncey, which was all too soon, I struggled to move him up onto the very tall, Anna. Once he was riding her, there was no other horse for him. She was an amazing mare that took the best of care of him, and never once did anything bad or even remotely naughty. The only thing she ever did was, have momentary bad memories which would cause her to raise her head high, leaving him dangling in the air.

“Um, mom?”

I would look back, and there he would be, just hanging there. Anna with her head in the air as high as she could hold it, her eyes wide with fear from some long-ago experience.

“Just talk sweet to her,” remaining calm, I smiled reassuringly, “talk her down, sweetie. Let her know that nothing bad is going to happen.”

When mom doesn’t panic, there’s no reason for anyone or anything else to, so he did as I suggested, and down came the head. This happened a few times over the years he rode her, and after a couple of times, he dealt with it on his own. They became a team, and he trusted her with his life, as did I. The sad thing about Anna was, she was very old. As with everything, there came a time when she was no longer able to be his partner, and she was retired. Sadly, I couldn’t convince him to ride another horse. Though he helped whenever asked, he didn’t trust another horse, like he had his pony and Anna. He fixed fences with us, worked on the barn, helped haul hay and was willing to hold horses, help in emergencies or carry foals when needed, but he didn’t ride again.

Fast forward many years. He’s now a grown man, still my baby boy, all six-foot four of him, but living on his own and doing well for himself. When I say living on his own, I mean he has several friends in his house, yet no special woman. Every one he would meet wasn’t quite right. They would be too condescending, smoked, be too prissy, snooty or worse, didn’t like cats. Any one of these was a deal breaker. The years went by, one by one, his friends got married, and he stayed single. He was keeping his eyes open for the right one. She simply wasn’t appearing and he wasn’t searching. He was waiting for the right girl.

He was asked to be the best man at a friend’s wedding. Now, weddings in Manitoba have a step that is, for the most part, something unique to us. We hold socials to raise money for the couple. A hall is rented, reasonably priced tickets are sold to what is a dance where alcohol is served, raffle tickets are sold for a variety of donated prizes, and a late lunch is served. It’s the job of the bridal party to organize and work the social. This is when the boychild met her, the girl he became enamoured with.

“I met the prettiest girl. I really like her. She’s interesting,” he told us after the first meeting of those who had to organize the social.

“Well,” I said, raising my brows, “did you ask her out?”

“I want to,” he sighed, “but I don’t think I should, until after the wedding, just in case we don’t hit it off. I don’t want to make things awkward for the wedding.”

Well, it made sense, yet we still thought he should just go ahead and ask. A year is a long time to wait to ask someone out. The social turned out well, the wedding day finally come, and we reminded him that if he was going to ask, it was time. The problem is, though they danced together for the wedding, they were both shy. The attraction was there for both of them, but they weren’t acting on it, at least not enough for hubby and I.

“Why isn’t he asking her to dance?” hubby asked me, nudging me with his elbow and motioning to where she sat at a table, “she’s sitting there by herself, so now’s a good time. Go tell him, to ask her.”

“I’ll fix this,” in full agreement, I knew my shy son and what I had to do. It was time to try something different. It was easy to see that she was as interested in him, as he was in her. I went over to where she sat, and strongly encouraged her to ask him to dance. The boy loves to dance, and has great moves. Well, though easily as shy as he, she did, and that as they say, was the beginning of everything. It wasn’t very long before, they were spending all their time together. They were made for each other, and he was completely smitten. His type of girl, she liked the outdoors, isn’t afraid of a bit of dirt or hard work, and loves vehicles like he does. There’s another thing she loves … horses. Though she’s never had the opportunity to learn much about them, her mother did own a pet horse, more of a rescue than anything. Because of her, the boychild’s interest in horses is back. They come to play with and brush horses. She wants to learn to ride, and they intend to own horses. I can tell you, this makes me smile from ear to ear. Their romantic engagement, is only the beginning to a wonderful future. She’s got a man who will always love and cherish her, and he has a woman who will do the same.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB