Five Minutes

Five minutes was all I asked. Five minutes was all I had. In that time I reached up, grabbed a handful of mane, bobbed on one foot careful not to pull the saddle toward me and climbed aboard. Heard the familiar creak of leather. Patted his neck and smelled the familiar smell of sweat and hair on my hand. Gathered up the reins to “put the horse in gear” and stepped on the throttle with a light stab of my heels. The bunching of muscle and twitch of skin told me he was listening and ready to take us forward and true to his nature, left the direction up to me. We walked for a few minutes to establish a working relationship, your moves, my moves. Before we attempt to try out the throttle, we try out the brakes and with a light tightening of the reins, a shift in my balance toward the back and heels ahead and a quiet ho-hup from me, we come to an immediate stop. Loosen the reins but maintain contact we're off again, this time a little brisker. This time the stop a little more immediate. And this time the go is in an opposite direction, just to find out who was really holding the steering wheel. Your wish is my command he seemed to say. A few minutes of that and we're satisfied, ready to walk back to his owner and do what riders do best, sit on their horse a few minutes, slack reined, while just hanging out and talking. No pestering. No fidgeting. No nibbling. Just hanging out. Hold the reins taut in one hand perched on the horn, swing over and balance on one foot for a nano second, and climb down. A scritch on the neck to say thank you and assure that the familiar scent of sweat and hair is on both hands, and hand the reins back over. Five minutes was all it took to realize what's been missing and what will be coming in the coming months.