Last month, my friend Patty asked for my address, saying she was going to send me something. Perhaps a birthday card, I thought.
We hadn’t seen each other in years, but used to ride with the same instructor in Ridgefield, WA. She’d since moved to Hawaii and I’d moved to Bend, OR. I was surprised to hear from her.
Days later, a box arrived on the front porch. My husband, Al, put it in the kitchen without saying anything. He didn’t realize it was important. I found the box before bed and opened it.
Inside were the pieces of a bridle: headstall, brow band, crown piece, and reins, all carefully wrapped. Patty had included a note. It was her show bridle and she wanted me to have it.
My husband, Al, saw bits of leather with buckles and a bit. I saw so much more.
Patty had purchased Zarewitsch (Zar) as a Second Level schoolmaster. At the time, most of my friends and I were riding what you might (generously) call Training Level horses: green and naughty, with little appreciation for the principles of dressage.