Get a Goin'

"Comeon girly get a goin'!" Bee hollered across the arena.
I turned in the saddle to face her. "You tell this ol' plow horse of yours to get a goin'! It ain't me!"
She frowned, "Well if you can't ride him then how you goin to show him?" Her Texas accent ran deep in her words, often I found myself trying to duplicate it, for what reason I don't know.
I ignored her and dug my spurs into the horse's side. He lurched forward into the canter. It was the wrong lead, I didn't care, he was cantering. Mid-arena he decided he was tired of the wrong lead, to much work, and flung himself through a flying lead change into the correct lead.
"There you go girly!" She hollered. I ground my teeth down and flung him into the first jump. I cringed as I heard the rail hit the ground. "Aw comeon now get your head in it!"
I ignored her as I approached the next jump. I softly rose into two point, keeping my hands out of his mouth. He eased into the jump and cleared it. Bee hooted and startled him. He lurched to the side, I pushed him back to where I wanted. I ground my teeth harder and rose into my stirrups. I assumed when I didn't hear a thud we were clear. I asked for a lead change, but instead he flung his head  and front end into the air. I lost balance and fell to the side, my foot caught in the stirrup and I drug through the dirt as the plow horse careened around the arena.
My leg stung, my knee ached, but most of all the dirt burned the skin on my back. Eventually he stopped. I laid in the dirt starring up at the arena ceiling. The little finches in the rafters starred down at me, threatening to poop on me at any moment. My foot fell from the stirrup sans my boot. I groaned hard as the pain shot through my body.
"You hurt?" She asked as she walked up to me, her weathered hands in her pockets.
"Well I'm not sure." I groaned as I reached up to unbuckle my helmet. My shoulders ached as I did it. I cringed and fought back tears.
"Need the medics?" She asked casually as if this happened everyday.
"No." I mumbled as I struggled to sit up, trying to avoid putting pressure on my legs.
"You going to be able to walk?" She asked. I looked up at her and shrugged, pain shot through my body. The plow horse snorted then sighed and relaxed cocking his hind right foot.
"He's all warmed up now." She joked.
I laughed as I tried to rub the pain away. I sat in silence for awhile. Never in my career had I ever been so close to death. Tears started to come.
"No you don't!" Bee yelped, "Get your butt back into that saddle."
I swallowed my tears. "Help me up." Pain shot through my body as I stood up, it surged harder as I swung into the saddle.
"Get a goin'" Bee whispered, her old blue eyes soft, as soft as I had ever seen.

That day I learned to ride through the pain. I learned to always get back into the saddle. Recently I've learned that lesson also applies to when life throws you. It hurt bad at first like the pain I felt that afternoon when I took the fall, but now the pain isn't surging, it's pretty mild, like a paper cut when you rub salt into it. Eventually there won't be any pain at all. I'm looking forward to those days, those days are close, really close, as a matter of fact I've experienced those days, happy days.

And Bee, I really hated you that day, your nonchalant attitude about the situation. I really hated you because you made me get back into the saddle. I got over it. Now I see what you were really doing to me, preparing me for life. Thanks Bee! I owe you one!
Missy. B