Cynthia's Return

The first thing I did when I came home, after five years in a coma and a few months of recovery, was to go see the horses in the stable. To my dismay, there wasn’t a single horse in view! My horse had died long ago, I knew that, but how about the other three horses? I turned to my dad with a questioning look.

He stood there, silent for a moment, then said, “After your accident, your mother and I decided to sell the horses.” He touched my hair tenderly. “Your life is more precious than any other being on Earth.”

Tears filled my eyes. “But Dad, my life is nothing without horses around. They were my reason for living, for fighting back and recovering quickly. We must have at least one horse!”

Father sighed and shook his head. “Sweetie, you almost lost your life riding a horse. Your mother and I couldn't let you ride without being extremely worried, like we were when the ambulance brought you to the hospital.” His voice broke at the last word, and he turned away from me.

My fists tightened. It just wasn’t fair! I had to ride again. I’d rather die than never feel this freedom I had while horseback riding. I remembered feeling completely as one with my horse, wild and free, galloping in the rain. I recalled the sense of urgency that woke me every morning, contrasting with my pre-horse habit of pushing the snooze button repeatedly. I started each day bringing oatmeal to my companion before school, patting his mane, talking to him while he looked at me with his tender, root beer eyes.

“We can get a dog…” My dad didn’t have time to finish his sentence. I ran from the stable, tears flowing freely down my hot cheeks.

I ran all the way to the field where my horse once grazed, then stopped and looked around. Things had changed during my long convalescence. The Brennens had built a miniature golf course where their stable had been. There wasn’t a single horse around, for miles! I sat on a big rock, crushed by sinister thoughts.

I thought my tears would never run out. My throat hurt like mad. I wiped my warm cheeks with the back of my hands. I stayed on that rock I don’t know how long.

By the time I got back to the house, the sun was setting, giving a golden glow to the corn fields’ tender green leaves. My face was back to its regular warmth, and I had made a vow to ride again, no matter what. My parents must never find out. I didn’t know how and when, but I would ride again.

The opportunity came sooner than I thought, a week later to be precise. It was almost summer. I found a brochure online about a great summer camp, an hour's drive from my home. Included in the activities were swimming, hiking, and horseback riding. I cut and pasted the information, making sure to leave out the part about horses, printed it, and dashed into the kitchen, where my mother was making beef stew.

“Mom, I want to go to camp this summer,” I said, handing her the brochure.

She glanced at it quickly, stirring her stew at the same time. “It looks interesting.” She seemed happy to see me smile again, which hadn’t happened very often since my return. “Let’s show it to Dad when he comes back.”

Minutes later, I heard a familiar car engine sound. I jumped up and opened the front door, just as my dad was coming up the front steps. “Well, if it isn’t my big girl!” he said, giving me a little hug.

I waited for him to take off hit hat and shoes. As soon as he sat down and had made a few comments about the wonderful stew smell filling the kitchen, I handed him the brochure. “Dad, I want to go there this summer.”

He looked at me intently, scrutinizing my smile. His eyes went from my face to the brochure, and he mumbled aloud while reading. He had this funny smile, like when he’s about to tease me. That was a good sign. His smile went away when he turned to the last page, though.

“Honey, I don’t think we can afford to send you to that kind of camp this year. Times have been tough lately. If it wasn’t of that, I would be happy to send you, but I’m afraid we can’t.” He got up, ruffled my hair, and went to wash before dinner. I think he couldn’t stand to see the disappointed look on my face. My smile disappeared as fast as it had come.

I didn’t know what to do. Burst into tears? Stomp my foot and insist on going? I had to remember that I was five years older than before my accident, and fifteen-year-olds don’t act that way. I was already starting to brainstorm a way to raise the money myself, when the phone rang, startling me out of my deep thoughts.

My mom answered, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hello? Marcy! It’s been a while since I've talked to you! … Yes, it’s great to have her back… Oh, she’s fine. It’s just a matter of time before she is completely back to her normal self… What’s up? … Hmm, hmm… It sounds like a good idea! Hold on, I’ll call her to the phone.”

Meanwhile, I was pretending not to listen, working on a word search in the newspaper, while my thoughts were racing. Aunt Marcy’s neighbor owned horses! When I came to the phone, I tried not to show my excitement. She was asking me to come for the summer, to help her care for her two children, ages three and five. I accepted right away! Aunt Marcy was like a big sister to me. I could talk freely to her. I’m sure she would understand!

Two kids… Last time I saw her, she was pregnant with the first one. My mind went back to the summer we visited her new home in the country...

"Are these yours, Aunt Marcy?" I said, looking through the fence at two beautiful pure bred broncos, grazing. I was only nine back then, but I already knew how to recognize good horses.

"No, I wish! They belong to Mr. Kugler, my neighbor. Speaking of which..."

I followed her gaze and saw a tall man with more muscles than hair, coming through the field toward the horses.

"Hey, there!" he said with a friendly voice. "Marcy, you didn't tell me you had such a pretty daughter!"

Aunt Marcy laughed. "She's my niece... although I wouldn't mind having her for a daughter." She winked at me, then added, "We have a lot in common..."

"... like craving pistachio ice cream!" we said at the exact same time. That wasn't planned. We both laughed in surprise, wondering how in the world we came up with the same comment at the same time.

"Feel free to aks me if you wanna ride my horses, some time. I've tamed them real good," Mr. Kugler said, looking at me with his sparkly blue eyes.

I nodded with a big smile...

"Cynthia? Cynthia! What are you day-dreaming about?" my mom said, bringing me back to the real world. I realized I was nodding for real. I just couldn't wait to go to Aunt Marcy's, but I couldn't explain why to my mother.

"Oh, I was just thinking about Aunt Marcy having two kids. She must be in great need for my help," I said simply, before going up to my room to do some more day-dreaming. I just couldn't get the picture of these two horses out of my mind.

Two weeks later, I arrived at Aunt Marcy's house with my luggage and a broad smile. I quickly glanced at her neighbor's field. To my dismay, the horses had been replaced by sheep! I tried not to show my disappointment until my parents had gone. After kisses and hugs, last minute safety tips and promises of a great summer, my folks finally climbed into the car and drove away, waving through the open window.

"Aunt Marcy, what happened to Mr. Kugler's horses? Did he sell them?"

"He moved away last year. The new neighbors are very nice. I'll introduce you to them later this week. For now, I have some fresh baked peanut butter cookies and raspberry lemonade waiting for you inside."

As we were heading towards the door, my two cousins held each one of my hands, and smiled at me dearly.

"Do you like to play hide and seek?" three-year-old Jackie squeaked.

"I sure do! I bet there are plenty of good hiding places around your house." I am an expert at hiding my feelings. The kids didn't even notice the deep sorrow that had just eclipsed my hopes and dreams.

"If I hide," chimed five-year-old Patrick, "you'll never find me in a million billion hundred years!"

While I ate my cookies, they took turns giving me a glimpse of what was going to be the longest summer I ever had.

"I like to pretend I'm a pink pony."

"That's babyish. I like to pretend I'm a space ranger. I'll show you how to use my secret laser beam weapon. Do you want to see it?"

"Do you like coloring? My dad bought me a new coloring book with glitters on the cover."

"I have the bestest baseball card collection you ever saw! I have more than Willie. I have more even than Jacob, and his deck doesn't even fit in his jeans pocket anymore. I keep mine in a treasure chest."

"Are you finished eating your cookies? I want to show you my princess bed. You can hide under it. It has a shiny pillow with a princess picture on it."

"But first you have to see my tree house. I keep all my action figures in there, and my secret stash of candies."

After three weeks, my aunt took me out to dinner, leaving her husband in charge of the two balls of energy.

"So, how do you like it so far?" she asked, biting into her taco.

"Your children sure have a lot of energy. I've never been busier in my life!" I said, trying to sound cheerful. I continued assembling my fajitas, licking my finger between each step. Either I wasn't a very good actor, or my aunt was a psychic. She saw right through me.

"Cynthia, if the children are too much for you, just tell me and I'll give you a break. How about you take Tuesday off and go to the mall?"

I shook my head, as tears filled my eyes. The whole story about horses came pouring out, before I had time to put my thoughts into the correct "format". I told her how I had determined to ride again, I mentioned about the summer camp, and I expressed my disappointment about her neighbor having moved, which was my last hope. The few scattered customers were too far from our table to hear our conversation, and the waitress was sitting in another corner of the room, taking a break. I let it all out.

"It seems to me like you have a serious conflict with your parents. Did you tell them how you feel?"

I related the conversation I had with my dad when I first came back from the hospital.

"Maybe you can write down your thoughts in a journal. It's easier to see a situation clearly once you put it down on paper. Then you can come up with a solution that will be beneficial to you and your parents. I know it seems hopeless right now, but I'm sure you can think of something."

Her soft voice soothed me. She had not offered me any clear solution, but her support had strengthened me. The same evening, she knocked at my bedroom door and handed me a journal that locks and a blue pen. She said very little, and discreetly disappeared.

I immediately started writing. At first, my writing was choppy and disorganized, but the more I wrote, the clearer my mind became. After filling out about ten pages of random thoughts, I started to write a story. The story was about what happened to me, but from my mother's point of view. I got so focused on writing that I didn't even hear the clock chime midnight. I just kept writing.

It was about two in the morning when I finished. My eyes were dry, I felt empty inside, and I had a clearer, lighter mind. I understood what my mother must have gone through and how she must feel now about me horseback riding. A shiver went down my spine when I thought about what would have happened if I died. How sad would my folks be without me around! And my dad? I know he loved horses just as much as I did. It must be hard for him to do without horses too. I never thought about it that way. I had been so focused on my own emotions that I had forgotten my parents have emotions too. I felt bad about having been such a silly head of a daughter.

The next day, I slept until 10:00 a.m. My aunt was kind enough to let me sleep as long as I wanted. She had taken the kids to the park, and the house was unusually quiet. You could hear the leaky faucet drip, the birds chirping, and my stomach grumbling.

I quickly ate toast with homemade strawberry jelly, then I rushed back to my room. I had to write to my parents. I turned on the computer and started typing:

"Dear Mom and Dad, I'm having a great time climbing trees, pretending to be a pony, and seeking hiders. I must admit I miss riding horses tremendously, but I realized that my accident must have been hard for you to go through. I understand, and will not pressure you to let me ride again, just for my own benefit. I accepted the situation and offered it to God already, and I feel better about it. My smile is back! I still think of horses a lot, but it doesn't hurt as much to think about them now. Anyway, five years from now, I will be a grown-up and out of college, and then I can save my money for a ranch. 'Till then, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Love, Cynthia. XXX"

While I was on the computer, I started playing an online game. To my surprise, fifteen minutes later, I got a reply e-mail from my mom:

"Dear Cynthia, thank you for the e-mail! I'm glad you are doing fine. In your absence, your father and I have started meeting with a councelor. We both realized that we have to work on our fears of you getting hurt again. In the process, we were able to let go of our worries, and we decided to let you ride horses again, if you like. Of course, because of the financial situation, we may not be able to have our own horses this year, but we can work it out some other way. Enjoy the rest of your summer, and write again! We miss you! Love, Mom. XXX"

I grabbed the phone and called home. I cannot relate the conversation because I can't recall half of it. All I know is that I felt like I had grown a couple years older in just a few weeks, closer to my real, physical age. I was able to embrace my mom with love and understanding I didn't think myself capable of. And I knew for sure I was loved.

The rest of the summer went by like a breeze. The closest I came to horses was pretending to be one, or drawing a pony, or watching a cowboy movie. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. My new passion for writing filled the void. I knew it was just a matter of time for me to ride again. I went from being a rider to being a writer, and that was fine. For now.