Veronica

On Saturdays, Veronica is in perpetual motion. She’s petite, but she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known. She has big red cheeks that surround her constant smile. Her voice may be raspy, but her words are never harsh. In fact, she calls everyone “babe.”

She presides over the indoor ring like the conductor of an orchestra. She shouts instructions to all of us rapid fire from behind the rail. “Babe, thump that leg!” “Wrong lead, Babe!” “Keep her head down, Babe!” Someday I’m going to ask her why she calls everyone Babe when she knows our names. It seems like it shouldn’t work, but it does. Perhaps she does it on purpose. Maybe it makes us pay attention a little more. It didn’t take long to figure out which “Babe” I was after my first lesson.

I remember my first lesson so many years ago. It was a cold February day and Veronica greeted me her baseball hat on. For some reason I felt like I had known her all my life. She brought over Rosie, the oldest grandmother of all ponies on the farm. She started by showing me how to use the grooming brushes, and how to saddle Rosie up. All the knots and buckles made me feel like I would never be able to remember how to do this by myself. After Veronica pulled Rosie gently into the ring, I stepped off the mounting block and into the saddle. I was riding! Veronica’s approval mattered so much to me, and still does today. I’ve come to understand though, that it’s hard for Veronica not to be pleased. She always gets excited by even the smallest accomplishment. When something goes wrong, she just smiles, looks away and says her signature line, “You won’t do that again, will you Babe?”

Veronica is like a second mom to me. She has taught me to be resourceful and figure things out for myself, pushed me passed what I thought were my limits, and she has always seemed to trust me and give me responsibilities that I know even my own mom may not have. I can’t imagine being who I am today without Veronica’s influence.