“Hey Titi,” I mutter to the receptionist as I walk through the worn out doors of Essex Equestrian Center!. She doesn’t look up but replies, “ Mira you’re riding Normandy!.” Titi’s French manicured nails continue click clacking away at the computer!. Titi is amazing after just a few weeks she seems to know me well!. “Okay, thanks,” I mutter!. I shuffle my feet across the dirt-encrusted carpet and make my way to the stable door!. I turn the greasy golden knob and enter the stable (which I love and care for!.) Walking up the stone floor I hear the horses hooves clip-clopping on the hard brick ground!. The (big) sliding door leading to the riding ring opening and closing releasing the sounds of the trainers shouting over each other!. As I walk down the numerous stalls of the many horses at the riding center, I see the horses peaking out from their stalls and their curious eyes following me wherever I go!. I arrive at Normandy’s stall and I pet his butter like fur!. Normandy’s chestnut fur is shining in the sunlight streaming through the windows!. Slowly grabbing the leather bridle from the hook, I slide it over his masculine face and lead him out the stable door!.
Leading Normandy around the hay trucks, we approach the somewhat vacant outdoor riding ring!. Andrea, my riding instructor, is barking out orders to Lucy the other rider!. I quickly lead Normandy toward the center of the dusty ring avoiding the on coming cantering horse!. Being unnoticed by Andrea, I get Normandy ready by myself!. The loud smack of the stirrups as I pull them down, finally catches her attention!. “How are you!?” she asks while she lugs the mounting block over to Normandy!. “ I’m good, I guess!.” I reply!. “Okay you can hop on Normandy!.” She says while she hands me a sandy crop!. I climb the mounting block steps and slide my boot through the stirrup, swinging my other leg over the familiar back of Normandy!.
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