My parents recently moved into a smaller house, meaning it was finally time for me to go through my bedroom. When my 30-year-old self tries to remember my 10-year-old self, I remember talking about horses and ponies nonstop.
So. Many. Ribbons. I finally told my parents we could get rid of the ribbons. I also told my dad that the trash bag filled with ribbons was probably the most expensive trash bag he’s ever held.
I clearly had my fair share of successes at my childhood horse shows.
Sometimes winning Grand Champion meant winning a trophy!
I don’t win this many ribbons in my adult horseshow life. I’m happy if I come home with one!
I have to wonder what my sweet, non-horsey parents thought of my popsicle-stick craft. Cinnamon was an amazing horse, and a patient and kind teacher.
Collectables …trinkets…all around random things. While going through my room, I discovered I had no shortage of horsey things.
I have no idea who gave this to me or how it appeared in my room.
My father used to travel to Asia for work trips. He always returned home with small gifts for my sister and me. He brought this home for me after one of his travel adventures. Horse? Score!
Again, I have no idea where this came from. Is that a trough? Or a stable? I can’t quite tell what the fence is supposed to be.
My childhood self couldn’t resist having three collectables that looked the same but were of varying sizes. Why? Ask a 10-year-old. I don’t always understand the rationale of my younger self.
My need for horse things most definitely included horse stuffed animals. It did not matter if they looked the same, or even if it was the same stuffed animal.
There are 10 entries in this diary. Eight are about horses. One is about a science fair project and the other is about getting altitude sickness in Colorado.
I also apparently received a calendar at one point and decided to log important horsey happenings.
Cinnamon came home healthy.
You should know that Ribbon was sold and lived a happy life, but young me was distraught that I didn’t get to say goodbye. My arm healed.
This Horse Lamp
My recent rediscovery of this lamp led to me crying in laughter on my bedroom floor. (To my non-horsey friends: no, horses don’t usually ‘sit’ like this.)
I won’t even discuss my Breyer horses. Those weren’t surprising discoveries, and I kept all of them.
Allison Griest is a freelance writer based in Texas. Follow her on Twitter: @allisongriest.