My horse’s name is Ziggy Stardust. I know it’s a silly name, but we got him during my David Bowie phase. Our farm also has several cows, two sheep, a cat, and a dog. The cat’s named Strummer and the dog’s named Bono. Can you tell I love music?

But my first love is riding. There’s nothing I like more than ditching 7th period and running home to ride Ziggy, before my brothers come home and when Mom is too busy tending to the baby to yell at me for being irresponsible.

I like to ride Ziggy without a saddle, my legs wrapped tight around him, clutching his mane with my fingers. The hair on his mane is scratchy and tough, no matter how many times I brush it. But I like its toughness. I like that it’s not perfect or smooth like Barbie hair. Maybe because Ziggy’s hair is kinda like mine, bristly and coarse, but resistant. Able to withstand (and sometimes even break!) brushes and the elements.

Sometimes I swear that Ziggy understands what I’m saying. It’s the look in his eyes, that of intelligence. Of kindness.