Awake in bed last night
Thinking of my childhood
A face struck my mind.
Sue, the woman who taught me about horses.
Her hair was blonde, her face worn out with features similar to Lucille Ball,
Dressed in jodhpurs with riding boots, her neck adorned with a silky scarf,
Sue knew all about horses and ran the stable with an iron fist.
A strong woman with a commanding personality, who conquered the room despite her small frame.
Upon meeting her on the first day, I felt anxious by her stern manner, yet she showed kindness toward me.
Being the only deaf student in the entire middle school, one of the very few non-white minority kids, I felt out of place.
I had one or two friends, but even after school, they ignored me and never invited me anywhere.
Each time I worked up the courage to call classmates on TTY to say hello and ask how they were doing, they freaked out at the thought of speaking to an anonymous operator and so they hung up on me.
Every disconnected call made me feel worse, furthering my shame of being deaf, and I utterly loathed my existence.
My best friend was a white bunny with pink eyes and deformed teeth.
His name was V.W.
I didn’t name him that by the way.
The neighbor’s daughter gave him to me when she went away to college.
I adored V.W, I fed him and played with him often.
Everyday at school, during lunch, I went outside to the basketball court and played ball by myself.
A teacher expressed concern: I was not normal.
She insisted that I needed to interact with other students.
But how could I? They ignored ne and pretended I didn’t exist!
Sue, this woman who taught me about horses,
She showed me how to groom horses and pointed out their different personalities,
She talked to the horses as if they were old friends, which I found strange yet enchanting.
There was John, a grumpy ancient white-haired man in the body of a horse.
Fancy, a playful boyish horse with a beautiful deep chestnut red color.
Silly boy had a massive crush on another horsey, oftentimes jogging over to her and flirting shamelessly with her.
Sue, with her elegant horse lady style and domineering manners, smoked as many cigarettes as she could and regularly lit up a new one as I rode John or Fancy around the pen.
Being deaf, I could not hear her voice so she came up with visual cues.
She waved her arm for me to slow down, she raised her fist with open palm for me to stop, and she squatted her knees, signalling for me to begin catering, and she kicked her leg, for me to kick the horse and start cantering.
She taught confidence,
showing me to open up and be more brave.
I think of her once in a while and always think of how awesome she was.
I wish I remember her name so I can find her online and thank her for being a profound adult in my childhood.
Susan, the woman who taught me about horses, was such a badass and I will never forget her.
