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When I was ten years old we moved from the neighborhood I had known my whole life to the country. I was devastated, going off and leaving my best friend and next door neighbor. But my parents had bought acreage and we had to go and live on it with the horses. I didn’t/don’t, like horses either!
Ten was a troubling age for me, so much change, a new house, no one to play with, I hated it. I think this is when I learned how to enjoy alone time. I found a tree that had a double trunk and right where it split was just enough room for me to sit my tiny behind. (Oh the days of being tiny!)
I found myself going to the tree truck often to sit and ponder the meaning of life. And to hide from the chores that went along with living in the country. I didn’t ask to move there or for any chores. I didn’t want a horse, or to feed it, brush it, ride it, none of these things were what I wanted. So what did I want? I wanted a motorcycle! But that didn’t happen for me until I was thirteen and had been thrown from the last horse I was to get on as a child.