CRWR

Photo No.1

This photo from many years ago takes me back to my preschool graduation. My mom and grandma came home in the morning with a white dress for my special day. I had most of my family at my house excited for my cousin and me, as we are the same age. I remember running around the house showing everyone my new dress, going through the kitchen that smelt like turkey and cake batter, stopping every once in a while to do a twirl in my dress, then being called to the back porch so that my mom and dad can take a photo. I stood still while excitement rushed through my body, and as my mom was about to take a picture, my grandma stopped her and said, "let's make her look like a princess," and picked a flower from the pot and added it to my ear. I kept the flower in my ear, and when I walked into the house, everyone told me how pretty I looked with my new hair accessory. This was a happy day for my whole family because it was a big step for me and my cousin as we graduated from preschool and entered kindergarten. 

Photo No.2

"Stardust"

By: Land Leave (memories).

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you, somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I. 

In the park, I focus on the individual lives of everyone.

I focus on the women with umbrellas held over their heads. They are well dressed, moving with soft gestures.

Animals are wandering freely, cats and dogs. 

I look out my window and watch the sun as it sets behind the mountains. 

The sails and canoes move slowly in the water, fishing around. 

I sneeze from looking directly at the sun. There are children playing tag around the adults that sit quietly. 

I hear my friends making dinner in the kitchen, stirring the sauce for the pasta. 

A lady stands at the shore listening to the small waves coming to the beach. 

I hear seagulls calling to each other across two buildings. 

A man is observing the activities of the people around him. 

I am the #1 barrel racer in all of Canada on my way to the Nationals Final Rodeo in Las Vegas. I will perform in front of millions of people in the arena and on national television. Frenchie and I have been working very hard for this day to come, and we are ready to win this. Finally, we arrived in Las Vegas and coming from a small town; everyone is deeply invested in my accomplishments to get this far to race against other professional women worldwide. 

There are three days of barrel racing, and it is the day of my first National Finals race. Frenchie and I are warming up in the back of the arena. Tension is built up between me and the other barrel racers. My mom and dad notice, and all they do is give me a smile and thumbs up. I feel confident in myself, and walk over to my parents with Frenchie and say, “I don’t want to use the helmet. I am going to be on national TV. Can I please use my cowgirl hat” they both reply with “No! Like we said before it is better to be safe than sorry”. 

I ended up winning first place on my first day of racing and placing third on my second day. At this point of the Nationals Finals Rodeo, I am reflecting on my life of barrel racing, and it is mind-blowing how I started off being petrified of this sport. Now, I am competing for first place in the world. My last and final race will determine this though, and to get first place, I need to win today. This time instead of my parents standing at the gate with me before I take off, they are sitting in the crowd because I told them I was confident enough not to have them there. I walk to my horse trailer just before the announcer calls me to enter the arena for my race. I am shaking because I know my parents may be angry with what I am about to do, but I need to experience this at least one time, and this time is special. 

The announcer calls Frenchie and me to the arena, and I am petting her neck and telling her, “we got this,” as I can literally feel her heartbeat in sync with mine. I feel the adrenaline rush, and it is the same feeling I have been chasing since my first-time barrel racing when I was 11. I kick her sides, and we take off faster than ever that. I feel like I am once again holding on for dear life. Wearing my cowgirl hat going this speed feels extraordinary. I see the clock at 10 seconds while turning the last barrel. We got this. I am kicking with my hands reaching to Frenchies ears allowing her to run the fastest we have ever gone. 

"Marika! Come back inside. You have been out there for 8 hours!" says my mom. 

"I want to be ready for the gymkhana tomorrow. It's going to be Beauty and I's first time! Hold on!" I replied. 

I am now 11 and today is my first time participating in events with Beauty in front of people. My dad is on the side of the rodeo arena, guiding me and instructing me on what to do. Beauty and I are having so much fun, and I feel her energy, and I know she feels mine. We feel invincible. We are near done with the gymkhana. I know the last event is barrel racing; I am terrified of this event because it is very competitive, and you have to run around three cans in the shape of a triangle to try and get the fastest time possible. 

I trot with Beauty back to the horse trailer to get ready to go home, and I hear my dad running behind me. My dad says, "what the hell are you doing? Get back out to the arena and run those barrels" I lie and say, "I feel sick. I can't". My dad grabs Beauty's reins and walks us both to the arena entrance. I am shaking, and now I am actually feeling sick. I am scared because I have not ran fast on Beauty yet. My dad laughs and says, "good luck," and slaps Beauty's behind, and I start holding on for dear life. We start running the barrel pattern, and I am filled with an intense amount of adrenaline; people on the sides of the arena are cheering. We turn the last barrel and head for the end line, and the timer goes off. I had a time of 30 seconds. I beat my fear and did it, and I want to barrel race to experience this feeling again and again. 

Five years pass by. I am now 16, and ever since my first barrel race, I have improved dramatically by getting faster each time. Beauty was older, and I needed to step up my game, so I found my perfect match, Frenchie; she was a chestnut quarter horse built for speed. We were the best team together, we started winning rodeos all over Canada, and I stood as #1. I was insane at barrel racing, and my parents always told me, “in the blink of an eye, you are already done racing!” my fastest time is now 15 seconds. 

In the sport of barrel racing, many girls and women wear a cowgirl hat instead of a helmet. My parents are the only people stopping me from wearing a cowgirl hat during my races. We argue about it whenever I bring it up. My parents already hold their breath each time I race because of how fast I go. I guess seeing your daughter on a 1500 Ib animal going 30 mph is sometimes frightening to watch, but I know what I am doing, and I want to look good with a cowgirl hat doing so.

The last time I pursued my dreams of horseback riding, I almost did not make it out alive. It was the last day of the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, I was riding my horse the fastest I had ever gone, and BAM, I saw images of significant life events; it was my life flashing before my eyes. Unaware of where I am or what I am doing, I hear screams from all surrounding areas. The dirt I am lying in makes me feel like I am being buried alive. The next thing I remember is waking up in the back of an ambulance with my parents crying in the front seat and someone beside me putting pressure on parts of my body while I feel the most excruciating pain I have ever felt. 

Ever since I was a tiny six-year-old girl, I have always loved horses. I grew up in a small town with a few stores, houses and lots of farmland. My parents knew I had a deep spiritual connection with horses like no one else before; they were my happiness and therapy. So my parents brought me to my aunt's farm to ride her miniature pony since it was the safest option for me at six years old. After spending so much time at my aunt's farm, I told my parents that I wanted a horse of my own, and they replied, "not until you are older, hunny, it takes a lot of time and effort to take care of an animal this big." 

In grade 4, I was nine years old, and I never stopped asking my parents to get me a horse of my own. They said I would have to prove to them how responsible I was, and I was only nine, so it was tough to prove that I was mature at that age. However, my mind was set, I knew I would do anything to own a horse, so I began doing chores around the house, washing dishes, sweeping floors, and even doing my own laundry. I proved to them that I could do things on my own at a young age, and they were pleased with me. 

A day before my birthday, my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents came to my house and gave me hundred-dollar bills. As a nine-year-old, I was more confused than I could ever have been. Then, my dad and mom told me they wanted to take me on a 5-hour road trip; unaware of what was going on, I went along with them and off we went. I slept the whole ride, and we were on a farm when I woke up. I had an idea of what was happening, and my whole body felt ecstatic; it was a joy I had never experienced. 

We arrive at a big red barn, and I am overwhelmed as I see a herd of horses galloping toward us. I jump out of the car running towards the fence to meet the herd of horses. As I am petting all the horses, I feel two hands on my back, my parent's hands, they say "happy birthday Marika, you have proved to us that you are capable of taking this next big step in your life. You can pick out one horse and ONE only". I laugh with tears in my eyes, and these horses are not miniature. They are massive. So I jumped over the fence and started meeting each and every one. When I thought I had met each one, the lady who owns the horses and big red barn told me I had left one horse out. 

I scope out the farm and see a horse lying on the ground in the distance. I run towards the horse. As I slow down, the horse stands up, and we both stop and slowly walk toward each other. My heart is exploding. I touch my hand on her nose and see that her nose has a hair outline of a heart. I hear the lady hollar "her name is Beauty. She is about five hands shorter than a horse, so we call her a pony". She has a bushy black mane, mainly brown hair with spots of white and some black. I go to hug her neck, and she rests her head on my shoulder. I whisper, "we're going to be best friends."