Today I am twelve years old. The sun is beaming through the mist at Clam Beach, waves pawing at the shoreline. My hair feels salty in the wind as I ride atop Red (my thirty-something Arabian horse) with doggies Sam and Nixon trailing behind. Red is ancient in horse years but the beach always compels him to run like a two year old in the Kentucky Derby. Together we let go of all reason and just race with no destination, no end result in mind. After miles of sand and seagulls I tug on the reigns. No response. I pull harder.
We play this game for another half mile as I pet his hot neck until he finally yields to my commands. I fall, bow-legged onto the warm sand and breathe deeply, happiness swelling in my belly.