Making a Profit | Teen Ink

Making a Profit

May 5, 2016
By marygrace30 BRONZE, Springfield, Massachusetts
marygrace30 BRONZE, Springfield, Massachusetts
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Christmas time is my favorite time of the year. It’s filled with joy and excitement. Not only is hanging out with family a great thing, but opening and giving presents is one of the most fun parts of Christmas. Little kids go crazy when it comes time to open presents. There’s always one good present under the tree that’s better than others. But this Christmas my best present wasn’t under the tree; it was somewhere else.


Every year since I was four years old when I began riding horses, I put the word “horse” at the top of my Christmas list. What little girl doesn’t want a horse for Christmas? Nine years of me writing “horse” at the top of my list had passed and still no horse. I’d write essays to my parents on why I deserved my own horse and not just a lease horse. I’d tell them how committed I was and how capable I was of owning one of my own. I’d tell them that I’d do anything to help make it happen. But sadly, these letters didn’t seem to be working. Yet, I still dreamed of having my own horse.


It was Christmas of 2013. I had written one of my classic “Why I should get a horse” essays. After creating a two paged essay with all my reasoning, I showed my parents.  “We’re really sorry but we can’t devote our lives to owning a horse right now and we can’t afford it. For now, you can keep leasing Profit as long as you would like since it’s cheaper.” It felt like all my hard work was put to waste. But I didn’t want to give up. As all hope fell out of me, I knew just had to repeat the process next year and continue to work hard to prove myself. I’d have to groom horses, turn them out, feed them, ride them and do whatever my trainer asked me to do. I’d spend seven hours at the barn each day on the weekend at three hours most days after school to show how dedicated I was.


Finally, Christmas day had arrived and I forgot about the whole getting a horse thing. My focus was on the presents sitting underneath the tree, waiting to be shredded to pieces. Even though I only ended up getting a solid 5 hours of sleep, unable to sleep with the thought of Christmas the next day, I woke up at 6:30, more than ready to open presents. I was never able to fall asleep on Christmas Eve when I was younger because I was so anxious for all the presents, big to small.


I ran around the house and screamed into my brother’s and parent’s room saying, “Wake up! Wake up!” As I ran to the presents in the living room, I heard the mummies stomping and groaning their way into the room. Slowly but surely, they made it.


I looked around the room and admired the many wooden sculptures of Santa Claus my grandpa had made, along with the warm toasty fire,  the tree decorated colorfully with many memories hanging upon it, and along with the most Christmassy smell: the pine tree. Nothing gets better than that.


It was no surprise that all of my presents were horse related. But after opening what I thought had been all the presents, my dad approached me with one last present. This present was half the size of me and had a width four times the size of me. As soon as I saw it, I ran to it and started ripping and tearing the sparkly blue wrapping paper with tiny snowmen all over it, as if I were in a cat fight. I got to the inside of the box and all I could see was white styrofoam balls. Quickly, I dug into the pointless white things to reach the gem. I looked down and saw a brand new Bates saddle. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t stop thanking my parents for such an amazing present. The brand new brown leather that smelled  fresh and rich, with no scuff marks, that formed perfectly to fit my legs and bottom, was heaven to my eyes.


“Want to go try out your saddle on Profit?” said my dad.


This question made me confused because I knew my parents usually wouldn’t want to go to the barn on the day of christmas if they knew I could just try it the next day. It was odd that they were asking me and wouldn’t wait. But without thinking about it too much I put on two layers of pants, two layers of socks, and 4 layers of jackets.  One of the things you learn as a horseback rider is to be prepared for the weather, although it can make you look like a fat marshmallow.  All bundled up, we hopped in the car and off we went to the barn.


The commute to the barn is about fifteen minutes and at the time, fifteen minutes felt more like an hour. But finally we arrived and I carefully got out of the car, holding my saddle as if it were a baby and the only thing I cared about.  As I slid the creaky barn door open, all the horses started neighing in excitement.The neighs vary from high squeaky pitches to low soft pitches between all the horses. We walked into the barn and every time you’re immediately hit with the scent of poop and horses The stench of poop and pee seeps out of each stall. There is never really a nice scent to smell in the barn.  Although by now, the smell didn’t even phase me. It’s normal to me and I could care less if I smell like a horse or not.  I walked slowly down the aisle saying hi and petting every horse because every one of them deserves some love. But as we started to approach Profit’s stall, I heard my dad’s phone make a clicking noise as if he were taking a video. I looked back at him and his phone was pointed at me. I asked him, “Why are you videotaping?” but no response. The closer I got to Profit’s stall, the more suspicious I got. I looked to my left expecting to see a big, bay Profit, but instead I saw a different horse. It was pure white, with big brown spots all over. Almost like a cow but in horse form. Then a huge sign in the back of the stall with red, velvety ribbons all around it, caught my eye. In big, bold, red writing the sign said, “Merry Christmas Mary Grace!”  Immediately I dropped my brand new saddle and tears started to pour out of my eyes. I was in shock.


I turned around to my parents and with astonishment asked, “Is this real? Is he really mine?”


“Yes all yours.” Said my dad with a big, bold smile on his face.


Thinking I was dreaming, I ran into the stall and for the first time in my life, I had pet a horse that was officially my own. His little white muzzle extended up into a triangle in the middle of his face right below his eyes and his cute fuzzy ears and dark brown eyes made me fall in love with him at first sight.


“What’s his name?” I said while tears running down my face.
“CM EL Winter Hawk, aka Hawk.”
The name was a little odd to me at first. I wasn’t a huge fan of the name “Hawk”. But that was the least of my concerns at the moment.
“What breed?” I asked.
“Half Arabian-half Pinto.”
For most of my riding career, I had been riding Arabians. I fell in love with the breed and knew I wouldn't have wanted my first horse to be any of other breed besides Arabian.


Half the reason I was crying was because I was completely surprised that I had finally gotten my own horse. The other half was sadness. I had been leasing a horse named Profit for 3 years. Profit was a purebred Arabian and was the silliest yet most annoying horse I had ever met. I never thought about leaving profit before and I wasn’t prepared to. Even though I knew I would still  be able to see him around the barn and ride him whenever I wanted, I just couldn’t get over the fact that I had a new horse and I needed to let Profit go. It was like letting go of a friend and allowing a new one to come in.


But deep down, I knew it was for the better. Hawk would be able to bring me further into my riding and I would be able to make many more accomplishments on him throughout our journey together. Profit was nineteen and Hawk was ten. He was a much younger horse than Profit so it allowed me to have many more years to learn from him. I had gotten to the point where Profit couldn’t teach me anymore and it was time to start a new challenge.
My mind had mixed emotions but I knew that all my hard work had finally paid off. Nine years of me going to the barn on unbearably hot ninety degree days and nine years of me going to the barn on frigid ten degree days had made me the rider I was. Being able to show my parents I would never give up and would always try the best I could had led me to success. My one and only dream that I had since I was four years old came true.
 



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.