My Nonprofit Reviews

I have been a volunteer at Exceptional Equestrians for about 6 years now. When I was a sophomore in high school I was inspired by a particular rider at EE, and I wrote about her. This is my story.

The smiles. The laughs. That moment. The first time we met was, well, unplanned. I had been working there for over a year when we met—“there” being Exceptional Equestrians. She walked in with her fiery red curls pulled into a ponytail and the little frizzy edge ringlets hanging down the sides of her face. While others noticed how she was unable to speak, I noticed how she brought a unique energy when she walked in. I knew she was going to be important to me.
The first things I learned about her was her love for hair pulling and high five giving. With an iron grip, she took everyone by surprise with her strength and her speed whenever she reached for our hair; however, unlike her hair pulling, her high five giving made everyone around her smile. As if giving high fives were her shiny trophy she won for being herself.
The second thing I learned was her name: Chloe. When Chloe first started, she was unable to verbally speak, sit up straight, or perform tasks that were asked of her. She knew the words, like they were right in front of her and she just could not quite reach them. Every time she was there we worked hard, and for months it seemed as if there was no progress being made. I could see the fatigue in her eyes, and I knew there were times she wanted to quit. But we continued to work. I knew. I saw it. Somewhere in her, she knew exactly what we were asking of her, and she just could not do it, but I could see she wanted to. There were days it felt as if we were working hard and nothing was happening. As if she gave it her all just to feel worn and exhausted. As arduous as it was, we continued to work with her, and she continued to push on. She never gave up. Ever.
We began making some progress. First with the rings on a stick. She would take one vibrant colored ring, and place it on the long red stick. Some days she chose sunny yellow or flamingo pink, and other days she chose a midnight blue ring. After rings came the end to the pulling of people’s hair, although, every once in awhile she still loves giving your hair a good tug when you are least expecting it. Following that came the holding of a ball while stabilizing her core all by herself. Chloe knew she was doing it. I could see it. Every once in a while she would get this gleam in her eye. A gleam of determination. Next came her attempting to play catch with the ball, she would reach it out, and then take it back. And every time she did something like this, I could see her happiness. She knew what she was doing, and she was happy with herself too.
Finally came that moment. The moment that brought hope. Chloe moved her hand towards her horse’s silky brown mane, and she told the horse to “walk on.” She did not use her words like many children do. She did not sit back like it was easy and as if she did it like most children. No. Chloe gently patted the horse’s mane twice and smiled. Her smile had not changed from what it had been two minutes prior to this moment. Same fiery red curls, same gleam in her eye, and same beautiful smile on her face. The other people around did not recognize this as an amazing moment, they simply thought she was moving her hand. But I did. This little girl who was unable to speak had left me speechless. All she did was smile, but I could see it. She knew what she did. And with those two very special pats, her horse began to walk.
-Andi