The barn has seen every version of me.

It saw the ten year-old who was completely horse-crazy and spent every spare second talking about ponies.

It saw the middle school version of me who was trying to figure out where she fit in and found comfort in a horse who never cared what was happening at school. Counting down minutes before the bell rang so I could rush to my mom’s car & go straight to the barn.

It saw me celebrate victories I thought were the biggest accomplishments of my life. It saw me cry over things that feel small now, and things that still don’t.

It was there when I switched schools. It was there through friendships, disappointments, and every phase in between. It was there when I got rejected from the college I was convinced I was supposed to attend. At the time, I couldn’t imagine that rejection leading me somewhere better.

But it did.

The barn saw me through that too.

Over the years, different horses have carried different versions of me. Gaspar carried a kid who was learning responsibility, patience, and what it meant to love something more than herself.

Lia carried a rider who was terrified but determined. She taught me that confidence isn’t something you wait for, it comes after you do the scary thing.

Tubby carried a version of me that needed to find joy again. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten that this was supposed to be fun. He reminded me.

And Fadalka has carried me into adulthood. Through college. Through uncertainty. Through learning who I am outside of riding, while somehow becoming even more connected to it.

The funny thing is that while I’ve changed a thousand times, the barn never really has. Sure, the horses have changed. The riders have changed. The faces around me have changed. I’ve watched strong and determined friends pass through and grow as individuals and move onto bigger things.

But the feeling hasn’t changed.

The barn has never expected me to have all the answers. It didn’t care where I went to college. It doesn’t care what job I get after graduation. It doesn’t care about my plans five years from now. It has simply been there- steady, constant. A place that has welcomed every version of me without question. People who have loved me unconditionally no matter the phase of life or age.

I don’t know exactly who I’ll become next. But if the past eleven years have taught me anything, it’s that there will be another version of me someday looking back on this one.

And something tells me the barn will be there to see her too.

With love,

Ella