How he was always happy to go out and wander through the forest with me, to take a bit of a sprint, make the wind rush through our hair.
I miss the smell of warm damping horses.. oiled leather, waxcoats, hay...
The soft sound he made when recognizing me, the lonely scream when he noticed me the time he was all by himself in that field, the impatient rumble when he was waiting for food.. the excited panting after a sprint and the soft sniffs when we were watching a deer.

The feel of the restless trot before we left the court, the relaxed slump-gait that could last for hours, the impatient concentration of power and energy before a jumpstart to full speed. The slow rolling gallop when we finally mastered it. The sprint toward the field when he let me lift on his bare back, only holding his manes. The stamping of a forehoof that lands in the water over and over again as the horse delights in the splashing that that produces.. The energetic showoff trot when we walked together... The high rears when he tried to drive through his own will. The curious and self-assured steps when we are on unfamiliar terrain. The stamping when he just got his horseshoes, and discovered that he could produce a nice amount of noise with them.

The icy cold of winter-morning mist.. The dew on the pinetrees, and the smell that that gave.. The frozen layer on the grass, the soft cracks as hoofs sink into it.. The world of gold as the sun raises and illuminates the mist. The soft sniffs of a horse that checks out the waking forest. The cocoon of waxcoat and hat and horse built around me in the rain, sitting there in my own warm dry world as the rain oozles down the rim of my hat. The struggle to learn to ride without headstall.

The exitement and energetic pace of a horse that smells the sea for the first time in years. The playfull jumpiness about tracks in the sand, and the toss of the head when it sees the endless empty sand before it - just perfect for a run.
I feel the concentration of strength, lean in and let go, feel the jumps underneath me fade away and become a sound.. the sound of hoofs that want only one thing - cover as much ground as possible. I can feel how much he enjoys this - testing his limit, stretching his body, loosing himself in the rush. Eventually we slow down, tears streaming out of our eyes, the pace slowing down to a supple rocking gallop that is kept up for some miles. Slowed down to step we wade through the sea and jump back as waves approach.
How can I forget?

A nightride. I come into the stable when it's long dark, and he is surprised to be taken out of his stand and saddled. We leave the court and go in the direction of the forest, he looking around him for shadows and listening to sounds.
He isn't scared because I am there, and I say things are allright. I am not scared because my friend Roy is there, and together we could deal with anything. We take a familiar route.. the only thing audible to me is the sound of hoofs an our breathing. When I grow cold I start singing softly to myself.. I can feel his attention to my voice, it seems to calm him down. By the time we get back I am thoroughly cold.
How can I forget?

We ride out from under the endge of the trees and look around us. A high point, the land is visible for miles around us. I get off Roy and sit down on a bench to eat an apple. He stands behind the bench, his head over the back and close next to me. Slowly and carefully he starts to investigate the content of my coatpockets, my leather gloves I put next to me, the little bits of apple I put next to me for him to eat.. He isn't pushy, just interested in what I am doing. I notice that he seems quite happy just standing there looking around him and checking out if I've got something nice for him.
Suddenly I feel him throw his head up - he is looking far away, and eventually I see the other horse that is walking there. Roy breathes in deeply and screams, then shakes his head excitedly as the other horse answers.
I finish my apple and get on his back - he makes steps on the place until I sit upright, then happily starts to climb down the long slope..
How can I forget?

picture a horse - broad and black, with long winter hair.. He's in his field, wandering around, checking his territory.
2 children come into the field over a small dam over the water. The horse is curious, goes to have a look. They're having a plastic bag with them, and plastic bags mean food. He advances the boy that's closest to him, but it walks away. Insistent, he steps after him. The boy begins to run. Oh wait, it's a game! The horse starts to run also, a lazy, relaxed trot. The boy looks behind him and screams, runs faster. And of course, this horse being Roy, the horse goes into canter and doesn't stop until the boy has disappeared out of his field. Then there he stands, head moving restlessly over the fence, a disappointed expression on his face. No food now, but next time...
How can I forget?

Somehow it seems strange that I still feel so strongly about this - after all he has been gone since March. But it's always been like this... I just never really wrote it down.
I don't think horseriding will ever be the same.. Not the quiet communication, the conflictless adapting to eachother.

And now I've sold my saddle (my beloved, 15-kilo heavy, old, dark brown plain western saddle) And have moved to another country - there is no return.

God I miss him...

A horse that runs in a field, just runs and enjoys the thundering under its feet, the rushing of the wind, the strength and energy of it's own body. See it running..
While it runs it sees an obstacle.. its ears turn forward, and instead of slowing down it goes straight toward it. See the pace concentrating, getting more deliberate... Hold your breath and see it sail over easily, as in play. Landing supple. Run further, with its tail high in excitement. Hear is scream to the horses in another field, see it stretch its pace and thunder past you. It is playing...

Imagine being allowed to lift on its bare back... to just hold on to the manes and feel the wind slam into your face...