be afraid...be very afraid

No, but actually. Let's get to Blogtember!

Day 4: A story about a time you were very afraid.

When I was about 8, my family and I took a summer trip to Coffee Creek Ranch, which is a "dude ranch" in Northern California. It is every bit as idyllic as you're thinking (or maybe not), but check out these pictures: 

The creek! Ice cold and beautiful, from here

Wooden rocking chairs, a "general store" where you could buy everything from bubble gum to candy cigarettes, from here

Completely stunning views, usually seen from horseback. Pic from here

It didn't get much better as a vacation spot - tons of families with kids my age, opportunities to ride horses, fish, swim in the creek, try my hand at archery...dream vacation. 

One morning, we took the Breakfast Ride - horseback rides up through a beautiful trail to a spot where they would serve up pancakes, bacon, sausage and more straight from a griddle. Being the youngest, I was at the very front of the line, led by a guy named Kiwi (to say I had a crush is an understatement) and riding a beloved horse named Cimmaron (my siblings called her fat and I cried. But that's besides the point). 

All of a sudden, the line jerked to a halt and there was a ton of commotion. They told us that there had been an accident and someone was hurt. It didn't occur to me that it could be one of my people until they took me off my horse and led me to the back. To this day, I remember the sight of Matt lying on the ground, covered in dirt and his face covered in blood. I have a vivid memory of pools of blood in his ears. Meanwhile, Jessie had fainted from all of the activity and I was in shock. 

One of the Coffee Creek employees took off on horseback to catch up to the parents and everyone else waiting for us at the breakfast site - we found out later she had been bucked off four times because of how hard she was driving the horse. My parents arrived what seemed like hours later in a truck, and my mom immediately started crying when she saw him on the ground...and all the blood. Matt was air-lifted out, with my mom in tow, and my dad tore off back to the ranch to get his car and meet them at the hospital. 

Jessie (once she came to) and I spent the rest of the day wondering where Matt was and if he was OK. I remember getting back to our cabin and finding a note that my dad had written to us on a Kleenex box in his rush. 

Matt came back a couple days later with his arm in a cast and bumps and bruises. So what happened? It was our first time riding horses, and we didn't know to wear heeled boots to stay in the stirrups. His horse was stung by a horse fly and it bolted, throwing Matt out of the saddle, but his foot slid right through and got caught so the horse dragged him. In the process, the horse kicked Matt in the liver (hence the extended hospital stay) and also stepped on his finger and severed the top of his middle finger. 

Now, I don't even think about that day - and somehow, I don't think Matt does either. But, I was terrified. There's also the time that Matt hit his head during a pick-up basketball game and was temporarily paralyzed for 8 hours...but that's a story for a different day.

To end on a positive note, here are me and my siblings at an Easter party a couple years ago, all happy & well (& drunk):