Summer is usually a time of joy, a time to relax, a time of excitement. But those words would not describe my summer prior to first grade. At the start, I was full of delight, but at the end I was dejected and sorrowful. All I could think was, “Why did this happen to me?” But now I realize that what happened was just one event that helped me be grateful for what I have, and never to lose hope.

When I was in kindergarten, I realized that I loved animals, especially horses. I had seen on tv people riding horses and I thought that it looked exciting, so I went to my parents and I asked them if I could ride. I lived in Oklahoma at the time, so everybody did dangerous stunts while riding horses, so it was natural for my parents to be worried. However, I didn’t realize that they would be so worried as to say no. But I was so determined to achieve my goal of riding a horse, I wouldn’t talk to them until they said yes. This lasted about one hour before I broke. However, they saw how much this meant to me and started looking up places that looked safe to them. They decided on a ranch in Mustang, Oklahoma.

I had three horse lessons before the disaster happened. Each of those lessons was full of joy (I consider feeding a horse, brushing a horse, mucking out a stall, and riding a horse fun). Especially because of one special horse, JoeCanDance. I always rode Joe when I was there, and quickly realized that he was wonderful, a true friend to me. He was always kind to me, always there for me. I loved him so much that my mom and I even made a scrapbook, which documented our time together.

On my fourth horse lesson, my mom and I decided to bring the scrapbook we had made and show it to my horse riding teacher, Rama. When we drove up onto the driveway of the stables, I saw that Joe wasn't where he normally was, which was out in the pasture. I assumed that he was just in his stall. When we got out of the car, Rama greeted us, like normal. I was very happy to see her, because she was always very kind to me. I walked up to her, showing her the scrapbook I had made. As I showed her each page, a look of shame, regret, and worry spread across her face.The next words she uttered would be the cause of many tears, many nights of dreaming, many wishes. "I sold Joe."

I stood there for a minute, thinking that it was all just a dream, just a figment of my imagination. But alas, it wasn't.

At first, I didn't cry. I didn't know what to do. I was like this until the end of the lesson, when I fully realized what had happened. When I got home, I needed to do do something to make it all seem better. So I wrote stories. All of those stories ended with a happy ending, me finding JoeCanDance. I needed that hope to carry me forward, to help me not give up. I still haven't given up. I like to imagine that he misses me as much as I miss him. I like to wish that I will find him some day. I like to wish that I will find my happy ending.