My mom has always been a big fan of horse racing. I was in my twenties before I stopped scheduling my Spring around the Kentucky Derby. I was the right age during Secretariat's reign to fall completely in love. I wore racing colours, chewed Big Red gum and debated the greatness of Man o' War vs Secretariat.
You can imagine, therefore, how thrilled I was to discover that I'd be staying two minutes away from his birthplace. We spent a good portion of yesterday wandering around the boundaries of the old farm, discussing the lost history and shame of losing the old manor home. When we got up behind the old ponds, through the trees, I saw a big bay horse racing game across a field. For an instant, I was transported back in time. Such joy, exhilaration flew from the horse's hooves. He slowed and turned and as we came up to the fence, he tossed his mane then posed for pictures. (I can't upload from my camera to my tablet but I will share them all later)
It felt incredible, not only to see a place that is an iconic part of my growing up, but for a brief moment experience the essence of what it represented to me - flight.
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