Way back when

My first best friend was a girl named Amanda. I met Amanda when I was seven and my family moved into our second house. Amanda lived in the neighborhood beside ours and her house was a short walk along the bayou trails and through a couple back yards. We were inseparable, she and I, and the bayou and neighborhood were ours to discover and explore.

That house was paradise for a young girl filled with curiosity and energy. The property was seven acres with a bayou running along the length of the back. On a portion of the property, my father built a barn and fenced a pasture. Then he turned around and bought horses. One for my mother, one for my sister, and when I was eight years old, he bought me a Shetland Pony. A beautiful speckled gray guy, a tolerant and sometimes grumpy friend I named Ajax. Ajax was ever present in my young days and much of mine and Amanda's exploring was upon his back or with him in tow.

A week ago, Amanda sent me a letter of sympathy over the loss of my mother. In that letter, she shared many memories she had of our childhood and my mother. This one is my favorite:

As I write this, crazy times come back to mind, and your mom was soooo cool about everything. Like when we rode Ajax into the living room and broke an expensive lamp.

I don't remember how we came upon the idea to bring the outside in, but I do remember that neither of my parents were home at the time, so we rode Ajax right through the front door and into the house. When we were in the living room, as our luck would have it, Mom arrived home. As she pulled through the circle driveway, she looked through the window and there we were, two little girls and a pony. In her living room. Amanda is right in that Mom was cool about it. I think the surprise took over any other reaction she might have had. As we scrambled to get out, our sudden energy naturally startled Ajax and we did knock a lamp off a table in the entryway, and it did break. We knew we were out of line and were sincere in our apologies, something I believe she she knew was true. And so, she let it go. She just shook her head at us and told us to stay outside and play while she cleaned up the mess. Amanda and I were stunned and enormously relieved.

My Mom had many rules in my childhood and for the most part I abided by them. But where there were no rules, my curiosity or ideas were pursued without a second thought. That night at dinner, Mom announced a new rule: No horses in the house.