When I was so young that I didn’t have opinions, my mother put me on horses and I started horseback riding. When I was somewhat older and had actual opinions I decided that horses really were fun and started riding for real with a friend from school. All of my riding took place at a riding school called Långeberga (funnily enough, it is located right next to a prison).
For the first years our class was on fridays, it was often the perfect way to start the weekend. Some hours with horses, friends and fun, and if we were lucky we got some candy afterwards. The only times it wasn’t so good, was when either of us fell off, luckily it did not happen that often. After some time our class time changed and we now had riding lessons on Mondays, still, everything was fine. We spent so much time there, it felt like we knew the place like our own pockets. Except from the big, cool, private stable where we students weren’t allowed in. All of the time spent together also led to a very close friendship.
Some time after I started horseback riding my mother, herself, took it up again. She had been riding during most of her childhood and adolescence. Due to Långeberga only having ponies it is not the place for grownups to ride, so she started riding at Clareberg, a stable where some of our friends also ride. So then I had two stables to explore. I would often come with my mother, help her make her horse ready and then watch the class or explore the stable or just hang with the horses. Sometimes my friend would come with me, those times were the best ones.
Riding school wasn’t enough for my mother so when I was twelve she bought a horse, Chasmin. She was stabled at Långeberga, and suddenly a new world opened for me. I was allowed into the private stable, we could go on long rides in the forest and explore the surroundings. We got new friends, all at least twenty years older than me, and there were new horses to per. It also came with a whole lot of new responsibilities. Helping feed the horses, and filling the barn with hay. Those late nights when it was only me and mom feeding the horses was some of the best nights. We also got the responsibility to restock the café, something that I loved. Which twelve year old would not love to fill carts with candy, soda and cake once a week? I also took the placing of the wares very seriously, the stock had never been as well organised before (or after). It resulted in the nickname “inköpsassistenten” (The purchasing assistant). That nickname was first coined by one of the owners of Star and Cayenne, two horses owned by a mother daughter duo and some of the people we got closest to.
Of course nothing stays the same, during our time there, two horses died of old age and multiple people changed stable. The most hard hitting for me was when Lolo and her horse Lovley moved. Lolo was one of the nicest and funniest people in the stable and her horse was just as kind, as Lolo was fun. It was also the horse that Chasmin shared a field with.
After about a year we moved too, and then it was not just the horse, it was also our house. I stopped with the riding classes, got a horse of my own and no longer had any reasons to be at Långeberga. In school we changed classes and when we no longer spent hours in each others’ company, me and my friend grew apart.
The only reason we had to go back to Långeberga, was to see our friends, most notably the owners of Star and Cayenne. This we did reasonably often, although more so in the spring/summer time than during the winter. Going back felt a lot like going home, like I was finally back where I belonged.
During these five years that has passed since we moved my relationship with horses has changed a lot. I have had to work through the fact that I associate the horses with my dislike of moving, something that has increased with time, not being reduced.
Things have not just changed here, it has also changed at Långeberga. Eventually Star and Cayenne were the only horses left from the time when Chasmin was stabled there. And that is why their passing away was especially difficult and heartbreaking for me. It was not just the death of two lovely and special horses, it was the last ties I had to a time when life was easier, the last ties to my childhood home from home.
This text is dedicated to Star and Cayenne, two very special horses.