Who are you most surprised to be friends with?
I wrote this for Real Simple’s Simply Stated blogger contest. I didn’t win, but I thought I’d share my story with you anyway.
“Howdy, ma’am!” He hollers, pushing himself off a creaky wooden bench with one meaty hand and extending the other towards me.
“Hi, Art,” I grin as he pulls me into a fatherly bear hug. Art is stocky and sure of himself in the manner of a man who has worked with his hands for decades. In contrast, he often teases me that too educated for this line of work. We walk into the arena, chatting comfortably as we line up barrels and old traffic cones.
When our first student, Christopher, arrives, he is twitching with excitement from his wheelchair. He’s 13 years old and has cerebral palsy. After he mounts his horse, Peaches, I help with his posture and guide the lesson while Art keeps a firm hand on Peaches’ halter. After Christopher rides, we see a new smiling face and a new horse every 25 minutes, all afternoon.
Art is a few inches shorter than me and four decades older. He’s a retired Marine, a grandpa and the owner of a vintage dune buggy, two incredibly bushy grey eyebrows and an infectious laugh. We both love to cook and often swap recipes. Daily, I ask for his common-sense advice, and he relishes my enthusiastic laughter in response to his lively stories.
At least once a week, Art brings me a bunch of fresh rosemary from his garden, placed in a Ziploc bag with “4 Miss Dani” scrawled across it in permanent marker, sometimes attended by another small gift: some coffee-flavored candies, a pocket-knife or leather work gloves. Sensible, ranch-related things, proving that he thought of me.
He puts his arm around my shoulders at the end of the day, and I relax into the warm embrace of an unlikely, but very dear, friendship.