Save the Horses

I've always been... A bit rebellious. I don't like rules. I don't like definitions.
Growing up I also loved horses, as I do to this day. My Granddad in Ireland was a veterinarian, and I envied his way with animals, admired his one-ness with the breeds that he took care of and owned.
I remember the first time I went riding. I was six, the horse was six feet tall. But once I was up on the saddle, height and size were just an idea. Everything else was abstract except for the fact that hooves can hit the floor causing flight.
It was beautiful.
Back home in good ole' New York there were stables around the corner from my home. Carla, an old babysitter who I can remember loving dearly, would take me there everyday. It gave me a piece of Ireland. It gave me a piece of home.
We all know what it's like to have things taken from us, things we care about. So imagine little me being told that the stables were being knocked down to build condos.
I did what any sane seven year old would do... I made a bloody petition.
Not only did I get every member of my family to sign it, but I also had the entire second grade class practice their newly developed cursive skills on that piece of paper too.
I can vividly remember marching up to the men with the hard hats on their first day of construction. Vividly remember holding that piece of loose leaf, torn from my spelling notebook, in my hands like it held the cure to hunger and would solve all the world's issues. Vividly remember seeing their reaction as a four foot curly haired red head walked up to them like they were the reason Elvis had died over the toilet.
As I handed them that paper, that beautiful piece of paper, I realized that I can make change. I can do something important with this life I've been gifted with. Even at a young age, I just knew.
I'd love to tell you that the stables are still there, and that I visit regularly, but a few months later they were replaced by creme colored buildings with fake red window pains.
& that's when I became a feminist.