By: MONICA RIVERA

let me tell you about something that happened to me a couple of years back. I was probably about nine or ten years old. It was summer vacation, and I had decided to spend it with some relatives in a part of Mexico where everything is still done the old-fashioned way. I woke up early one morning to drive out to my uncles` pasture, to help milk the cows.

What I didn’t know was that my uncle had just bought some wild horses. They were loose in the pasture. While my cousins began gathering the cattle, I silently sneaked away and walked to the far end of the field, where the horses grazed peacefully. There were three of them. Two black ones, which looked like twins, and a bay one. They were unlike any horses I had ever seen. Their backs weren’t arched from riding, their coats gleamed with the rising sun, and their eyes were lively with mischief. They were never scared of me, but they watched me intently.

[private]The bay nickered softly, as if greeting me. I know I was at least ten feet away from them, but I felt as if I was right there beside them, with them, as if I was one of them! I don’t know how long I stood there, but I wish I could have stayed forever. I know I turned back when I heard the calls of my cousins, but I can almost swear I felt a breath on my neck. It was wonderful and exhilarating. That was a very important part of my life because that was the root of my love for horses. Ever since that day I have longed to see those horses once again. They let loose a part of me I didn’t know I had, a wanting. I feel that every horse has a little wildness inside; you just have to help them let it out.[/private]