run like the wind bull's eye

Equus ferus caballus. Horses. Ever since I can remember, I've been infatuated. It's stuck with me all these years and I know it's gonna stay with me for the rest of my life. I crave time in the saddle, at the barn. It doesn't matter what I'm doing there, just being around them is an escape. Their characteristic scent; there's nothing else quite like it. The sweet smell of sun-soaked hay, salty sweat, grain, fresh shavings, and just horse; a wonderful mix of all these things when you press your face against their neck. Being at the barn is such an escape, to walk through and hear the soft snorts or contented sighs of happy ponies munching on their hay for the night. For just a little bit, I can forget the stress of the rest of reality and just live in the moment with these creatures. The happiness they bring and the sheer joy they provide me with. I owe them big time. Jazz has listened to more of my struggles than most, he's probably one of the best confidants I've had. Deep in my being, I can feel the need for the horse-human bond. It's a deep-rooted desire, something that I can't live without. There's such satisfaction when you just click with that one horse; you can get the best out of him and you feel a possessiveness over him, an attachment and a need to protect him. A need to spoil him and just hug his neck because it's warm and sturdy, solid. I'm without it, and I feel like a piece of me is missing. My pony is gone while I'm in school. I don't know when I'll get him back, I just hope I get to have him for the last few years of his rich life. So full of spunk and attitude, but still the love peeks out from underneath the facade. I have 5 years left of school, he will be 25 when I get done with vet school. I want him to be the one to teach my kids to ride, so they can learn to ride on the same stubborn pony that I did. He's a wise old man; he knows when to push you to your breaking point and he knows when to stop and just let you cry. He's spoiled beyond repair, but it's the type of spoiled that comes from love, not treats. I just miss it, dearly. I don't think I took the past for granted, I think I just wish it was more feasible in current times. I treasure all those times so deeply. I find myself talking about him in past tense, and I'm not okay with that. "Oh my pony always did that", correction "does". He's not gone yet. I'm scared sometimes that one day when I go to see him, he's not gonna remember me. I want him back. I want to hug his neck and put my face in his mane to take a deep breath of his scent. I want to be able to talk to him while I clean his stall and he munches on his hay, have him as the most attentive listener. I hate that I'm bitter about what I don't have anymore, I don't want to be like that. When I'm surrounded by people who take everything they have for granted though, it's hard not to be. They have what I want, and frankly, I'm jealous.