Genuine

So this is the final draft of my English essay. I am cherishing it because this is the only time we won't have to analyze some God-awful book (Great Gatsby and Death of a Salesman here I come!) and because it means a lot more to me (and is more along the lines of what we were supposed to write) than the original essay I wrote. I'm going to be taking that one off. Ick!

So, here it goes, my persuasive essay!

Genuine

It’s hard for many to understand a life revolving around horses. Some detest the smell, the dust, the manure, and sloppy lips slathered in feed. Some cling to their concrete jungle, and would not know what to do in an open space with fresh air. And as for just as many others, horses are simply not for them. But they are for me.

I love the smell of clean leather whisking together with the dusky aroma of shavings and the sweet smell of molasses and oats. I love the quiet of the stable, of the residents peacefully shifting in their stalls and munching on hay, only broken by a soft nicker or a shrill whinny. The sunlight gleams through the windows above the aisle and casts heavenly light down upon the dim interior. When I walk out to the pasture, the bright is everywhere, and it gives way to green fields and majestic oaks. Interweaving amongst them are the horses, shadows beneath the trees and swaying with the grass as they graze. And in between two chocolate brown geldings is the one I came here for: a silver sublime basking in the sun. My dream come true. After school, every weekend, whenever I can: I don’t go shopping, I’m not on the basketball team, I don’t waste time. No, I drive along country roads and past fields of green coastal and to go to a stable to see a mare, Greta.

We love to simply stand in the aisle, taking a pause from brushing, and listen. I lean against her, and she turns to look at me in her special way. It is special because of her big brown eyes and long white lashes that mirror her intelligence and knowing and personality. From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was something extraordinary. Shivers run down my spine whenever I think about it.

Many people claim to share a bond with a dog, or a cat, perhaps something as abstract as a goldfish or turtle even. Horses are not for everyone, true, but the few who are fortunate enough to see something special in the horse, and not simply as a beast of burden, those are the people who truly share a bond with the horse. There is something delightful about striding atop one, soaring across the arena. When you are in a Zen as you float before the judges in an airy trot, your body melding with the horse into one unanimous creature, and then the sincere clap of audience hands breaks you from your trance as you find yourself giving your horse a great hug from the bottom of your heart: it is then you can feel and know the bond with a horse.

There is something more magical than simply riding a horse. Looking into a horse’s eyes, you know you look to them for spiritual wholeness and they look to you for leadership and guidance. Some people never connect like this, and I do not pity them. Like I said, horses are not for everyone.

But, for those special few who can feel and understand the joy and freedom of riding, and the calm and peace it brings to run your fingers through a thick mane: I praise you. When you love your horse, like how I love Greta, you can look past the musky smell and the dust and the “mess”. After all, every pet has their good and bad moments. It is all a part of taking care of and loving an animal.