You Never Forget Your First...

Tom and I lived together in Tennessee for a year in an apartment above a stable. The rent was expensive, but it was my dream to be around horses 24/7 so he made it happen for me. I was only taking lessons at the time and Tom’s mother found the place accidentally on her way home from work one day. I went out to take a look despite the rent, which was way over my college budget. Needless to say, I fell in love.

It was an existing horse farm on a large property previously owned by a Saddlebred breeder who sold the farm and moved next door and retire. The new owner of the stable leased it out to a horse trader who rebuilt the barn (it had burned almost to the ground years prior). It was a beautiful place looking over amazing rolling pastures and the Tennessee river. I can still remember the sun set and how it transformed everything into a shimmering wonderland of a dream. It was surreal and sometimes I have to ask Tom if it was real. I think he feels the same longing I have—we both want that time back. Maybe we needed that short time in heaven to understand what it is we are working for, and why we had to leave it behind.

Tom was still in New York when I went to see the apartment. I came home crushed. I knew we’d never be able to afford it and wished I had never seen it. I called Tom to tell him all about it and he agreed that we couldn’t afford it, even together. I was living in his parent’s basement and could hardly find an affordable apartment that allowed pets, so I was stuck for the time being, which I was fine with. They were amazing to let me stay and I am (and was) so grateful for that.

Meanwhile, I started school that fall and pushed the barn out of my mind. Tom came to visit for a surprise weekend and I took him out to see the place. No one was around to show us the apartment but he was able to look inside...or maybe the door was unlocked? I can’t quite remember at this point, but what I do remember is the sensation my heart made when I kissed him goodbye at the airport and he told me to get the apartment if it was still available.

I practically ran to my car and called the landlord the very second I closed my car door. He said it was still available and that I could have it if I wanted it.

Before I knew it, I was making a home again. Painting, cleaning, decorating, settling the animals and petting all the gorgeous horses over the fence. Of course it wasn’t perfect but there’s no reason to dwell on the negatives at this point. I was in heaven and that’s all that matters right now.

Tom, grudgingly, moved in with me a couple of months later. The landlord (or Horse Trader, as I came to know him) was a bit of a womanizer, so he was not warming to Tom’s presence in his neatly groomed harem of cute horse girls. This caused problems, and was ultimately why we had to leave down the road, but I still remember the joyous moments clearer.

Of the numerous horses crammed into the 19 acre back pasture, I had found one I couldn’t take my eye off of. He was black. The horse trader always called him “Blackie” and told me to take him for a ride. I never looked back. I rode that horse every day. I groomed him, fed him—loved him. The horse trader saw my growing affection for “Blackie” turn into dollar signs. I was just another sucker to him. Tom’s mother bought him in a sunset trade (what I call a two-hour horse purchase) and I worked with them both in the evening and cared for him during the day.

**You’ve seen me refer to this horse in previous posts as “Iron Man”. That technically was his name, but that’s not what we called him. The same goes for all other names mentioned here. I’ll explain that another time. **

At any rate, Iron Man was a little too much horse for her, so she began looking for something else. In the meantime, I took care of Iron Man as if he were my own and paid board for him while we kept our eyes out for someone to take him. I certainly couldn’t afford him, after all.

Of all the beautiful memories of that place, there is one that will never fade or tarnish in my heart. It was Christmas Eve—our first Christmas living together, and Tom and I had spent the night cooking, making presents for our loved ones and enjoying the day with our “kids”. I brought home a tiny little Christmas tree (a bush really) complete with miniature lights and bulbs and we decorated it together.

That night as we were going to bed I remember Tom saying he was going to stay up for a little while and play on his guitar.  I was hardly awake when he came to bed and asked me if I had ever written a letter to Santa Clause. I mumbled in my tired-stupor: Of course I did! He asked me what I ever asked for. I told him, “A horse of my own. What else could I have ever wanted?”

The next morning I grudgingly pulled on my coat and jeans to go downstairs and feed Iron Man. I remember everything about that morning. It was unusually warm and the sun was breaking through the clouds so gloriously kissing the tops of the trees and setting the river below to a shimmering light show. I shuffled my feet down the barn aisle, stopping in the feed room to get his grain. I could hear him pawing at his stall door and asking me to please hurry it up. I meandered up to his stall door, but there was something different.

On the handle of the stall door was a strange assortment of bowed ribbon and string. I thought it was very cute Tom had put Christmas decorations on his stall. They had really bonded, and Tom was becoming a good rider. But there was still something strange-looking about those bows...was that a note in there?

My eyes were still a little blurry from sleep, but I leaned in closer after tossing Iron Man’s grain in his stall and realized there was something written on a little folded piece of gift wrap. This is what it said:

“Dear ______,
I got your letters long ago and I’m sorry it took me so long to deliver. He was hard to fit in the sleigh!
Sonic’s Iron Man is yours to keep!
Merry Christmas,
Santa”

I screamed and cried and cried and screamed and threw the stall door open and hugged him and kissed him and kissed him and hugged him! I ran upstairs and jumped on Tom and told him what I had found! He smiled at me and said I must have been very good to get an entire horse for Christmas. I cried some more. He kissed me and we both went downstairs to share that most amazing moment. I threw the bridle on Iron Man and had the best ride I can remember. It was beautiful out. It was spiritual. Tom filmed it all and we shared it with the family that night for dinner. It was more than magical. It was a dream.

My relationship with that horse was special before he was mine, but after that, it was like we had become one heart and one soul. I love him so very very much and my heart aches that he’s no longer with me. I would give anything to be able to live the kind of life I would need to have him back. I didn’t know what kind of a life I was headed into. I couldn’t risk Iron Man’s safety for my uncertainty. I did what was best for him.

But this isn’t about our ending, it’s about our beginning...and though it wasn’t the actual start of our relationship, it was the true foundation of our love and it taught me so much.

Maybe it’s not Christmas or even close to Christmas, but that memory always crosses my mind whenever I see something that reminds me of him. This time, it was last night’s sunset—just like the ones we had at that barn and I can’t think of that place without thinking of him. Here’s the you, Iron Man...