Cowboys and Indians.

Most of you know that I grew up on a cattle ranch.  I am a cowgirl to the core.

My most fond memories are in the great outdoors where I learned to be tough, appreciate hard work, and use my imagination.  Yes, imagination.  We didn’t have a lot of toys growing up, but we had the entire land as our playground.  Nothing like playing Cowboys and Indians on real horses, chasing real Indians.  Ok, maybe the Indians weren’t real, but the horses definitely were.

My childhood best friend came to visit yesterday.  One of the best things about being a helpless girl with a broken pelvis is that you get visitors.  I like the company and the entertainment.  Who knows, maybe my imagination isn’t what it used to be but I struggle with the solitude of the injury.  I blame it on the computer.

Anyway, my friend was driving through and decided to stop in for a visit.  We were always kindred spirits growing up.  Blood sisters.  We were two cowgirls against the world.  And here we are 15 years later, and she just did her 2nd half-ironman.  Imagine that?  Spending years apart, and still finding similiar loves amongst being active, and riding bikes.  Kindred spirits.  I am proud of her accomplishements.  We still crave the adventure of the outdoors, the thrill of competition, and occasional horse back riding, even if most of our riding these days is on bikes.  We have great imaginations still.

What happened to that simple life?  The simple life where you could just escape in your world of imagination and have the victories that you wanted after the battles were fought.  There was always a happy ending, and boys were still yucky.  I wish I could have that simple life back at times.

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