Do we call it reckless or is it just a matter of unbridling?

‘I lay awkwardly on my back, a mound of red dirt piled up around my head where I had ploughed into the ground. I tried to spit the sand out of my mouth but it gritted irritatingly between my teeth. Lying dead still, I looked up at the sky, wondering ‘My back? My neck?’

Gingerly, I moved my feet a little.

Okay, I thought, I can move without pain. Good.

Then it dawned on me. Dad had witnessed my tumble. Was he okay?

Becoming was one of two crazy horses that Craig fetched from a remote farming area called Arnot in 2005. The other was Scarlet, a mad chestnut that no one except Gary could ride. To say I was cautious of Becoming would be an understatement. Riding her was a bit like driving an old Volkswagen with a V8 engine – a huge amount of power with not enough control. But, my faithful friend and mentor, Impulse, had passed away. I needed a horse and Becoming was available. In 2007, I decided to give her a try. She was still without brakes but hopefully a little older, a little wiser? I hadn’t really tested that yet. It was difficult to tell.’

Wild escapades

 The above text is an excerpt from our newly published book, Unbridling. Today I found myself thinking back to some of the more traumatic moments Chris and I experienced as Sheryl’s parents. Born cerebral palsied (her medical diagnosis) Sheryl was determined to do what everyone told her she shouldn’t or couldn’t do. I think I am allowed to say (since I’m her mother) that she has a reckless streak, which explains some of her wild escapades on horses.