“When did I first show interest in horses?”
I ask Mother recently, wondering what sparked my interest in this specific animal.
“I’m not exactly sure…” She thinks for a moment.
“What I remember most is the toys. When we would go to a store and look at the toys, you never went right towards the babies and Barbies. You went straight for the animal toys, but especially the horses.”
To this day, I would still instinctively choose animals over people.
***
You’ve heard of The Horse Girl.
There is no doubt that was me. Whatever love I had for them came naturally.
I read dozens and dozens of books about horses—fiction, nonfiction, encyclopedias—whatever I could get my hands on. I watched and re-watched all the classic Horse Girl favorites: Spirit, The Saddle Club, Black Beauty, Caitlyn’s Way. I was obsessed with learning everything I could about them.
I was the girl at recess who ran around, hands curled to her chest, cantering through the sandbox, neighing and whining as if I could animorph into a horse.
Naturally, I was bullied for it. But I didn’t care.
Nothing would diminish my love for horses.
Horses are both very strong and delicate creatures. They can walk miles for days, carrying loads equal to or above their body weight. They can run up to 55 MPH—horsepower, duh. They can climb mountains, swim lakes and rivers, and find a way to survive in most environments. Horses have literally carried humanity throughout history.
But horses are some of the most sensitive beings on the planet. They are incredibly intuitive animals, and they know when the energy is off. A weird draft of wind, a sudden sound, a pessimistic presence will knock them off balance. They get spooked easily and they’ll throw you off their back like it’s nothing, sever your spine in a second, and leave you to protect themselves.
I learned you have to reciprocate strength and delicacy when engaging with horses. They respect a well-balanced combination of confidence and softness. Riding, especially, is an exercise of mutual trust.
Every year for Christmas, the first thing on my wish list was a horse. Not lessons or a stuffed animal, a real horse of my own.
Of course, that was (and still is) difficult to make a reality. But it is an experience I still hope this have in this life.
I remember begging Mother for months to start regular lessons. She obliged when I was around 6. I rode for several years and always wished I would have continued. It’s still a sore spot to think about the many reasons I had to leave riding behind.
One day maybe I will be able to afford to go back.
***
Looking at the pictures from my first riding lessons, I didn’t realize how small I was. There is not an ounce of fear on my face sitting on those horses. On the contrary, I don’t think I’ve ever looked more joyful.
I remember being guided around on the adult horses for my first few lessons. Eventually, I think everyone realized I was serious about investing in this, so I was set up with a regular lesson horse.
My “first pony” was Sugar. He was a spicy and spiteful little Shetland. One time he stepped on my foot when I tightened his girth too much and another time he bit me hard enough to leave a giant purple bruise when he wanted my cherry popsicle.
Sugar taught me how to build a bond firmly on intuitive trust. I rode him for several years, learning to canter, gallop, barrel race, hunter jump, and do dressage footwork with him. He was a versatile little pony.
I’ll never forget the day I said goodbye to Sugar. I was 12 and had been too big to ride him for a while now. But every time I was at the barn I always stopped by to give him kisses and a carrot.
At my last visit to the stable, I sat in his stall for a while, just crying and telling him how I didn’t want to leave. He brushed my forearm with his lips and licked me. I don’t know how, but I know he understood. Maybe somehow, he knew even though I was leaving my horse girl identity behind for now, eventually I would find my way back.
***
My boyfriend and I drive around the West Coast of Puerto Rico. It is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. The Flamboyan trees are in full bloom—red and yellow canopies hanging over the narrow roads where the insects chirp and the coquis sing their two-note song.
It only takes about 10 minutes driving around Rincón before we see them.
“Baby look! Horsies!”
It’s an inside joke—One time on a family road trip I got so excited to see wild horses that I shouted the phrase loud enough to shatter everyone’s ears. I’ve never been able to live it down.
Now every time we pass some on the road, it’s tradition to yell: “Look! Horsie!!!”
My boyfriend thinks the story is hilarious and starts playing along every time we see one.
There’s a skinny brown horsie in Aguadilla, waiting for a local to feed him some scraps when we drive down to Playa Crash Boat.
There’s a palomino horsie, riding in a make-shift trailer in the bed of a pick-up truck through las calles de Mayagüez that makes us roar with laughter but also lament on the horse’s safety.
There’s a black horsie galloping through the mountains of Moca, his rider barefoot and carefree, flowing with the breeze.
It’s the first time I’ve felt close to horses in a while. It’s much more difficult and expensive to access horses in the states. In PR, their presence is abundant everywhere.
We spend the week weaving through his hometown and the surrounding areas where he grew up. Equally abundant in Puerto Rico are abandoned houses, many for sale and in need of renovations. One thing my boyfriend and I have always bonded over is our love for home projects.
When we see houses with potential, we stop for a moment and think aloud about all the things we would do to improve it. They are modest, good foundational homes, with otherworldly views of the emerald mountains and cerulean Caribbean Sea. Many of the properties also have extensive land.
At a few stops, he looks at me says: “That backyard is big enough for us to fit your horsie.”
***
In the Chinese Zodiac, 2026 is the Year of the Fire Horse. In their culture, horses symbolize fortitude, elegance, perseverance, devotion, freedom, and power. The Fire Horse is associated with masculine energy—energetic, lively, potent. It is a sign of growth, rising again from the ashes and going headfirst towards what you want with the entirety your life force.
As this year already speeds by in a gallop, I think in repetitive riding ring circles about what I want to use my life force go after.
The motivation used to be towards by career, but now I am getting disillusioned with teaching. Education is collapsing and everyone says teachers deserve better, but no one takes any action to ensure we have a livelihood. Being an English teacher feels almost pointless. The vast majority of students don’t want to write; they just want to feed the prompts into ChatGPT, copy paste and submit. They know there’s not much we can do to call it plagiarism without ethics laws and academic integrity adjustments. Lately, work feels draining and unaligned.
Last year taught me a lot about what I don’t want anymore.
As for what I do want?
I want to be somewhere warm, near the ocean. I want to contribute positively to my community and have enough material means to support myself. I want to be around animals and in nature as much as possible. I want to be connected to people who make me feel safe and seen. I want to have enough time and energy to stay disciplined with my writing and regularly engage in my other creative hobbies. I want to be in a space where I can be met with equal amounts of confidence and softness.
I went riding for the first time in a while not too long ago. My family surprised me for my 29th birthday with a beach trail ride up on Hutchinson Island. It had been years since I’d been back in the saddle, but nothing felt more natural. I keep returning to that feeling.
When did I get so far away from the things I have always intuitively loved?
Maybe that is the ultimate task for this Year of the Horse Girl: to keep coming back to what I was drawn to instinctively since childhood and letting it fill me with joy again.
