Freeing Frankie

When I was a kid, I used to own this beautiful horse, named Frankie. He was a black stallion. I recall his coat being shiny black and his eyes, the colour of emerald green! Frankie belonged to a shelter before having found a place on our farm and almost immediately, in my heart. I loved this horse as much as I could; without conditions or any boundaries. What I remember most vividly is Frankie having had this piercing look in his eyes. At first it was distrusting and frightened yet, powerful. So intense and powerful. After a while, it became relaxed and playful. He was a unique horse to say the least, mischievous at times and stubborn. Only I know how much time and effort I had to put into taming Frankie. But this horse, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was clever like that! That was one of my favourite qualities of his.

Frankie and I were inseparable. Each day, before and after school, I could easily be found to be by his side and when I was unable to, I would daydream of doing so. I took great pride and pleasure in taking care of him. I would feed, groom, and even share stories of my day to him as we would walk together below a series of old pecan trees covered by Spanish moss. I remember feeding him and myself wild blackberries whenever I came across any. Eventually, I managed to be able to ride him whether bare back or with a saddle. We would go on adventures in our massive farmland. Frankie and I shared an exceptional bond.