I watch my daughter trudge through the mud to the pasture below. She places her feet carefully, halter slung over her shoulder, mind focused on today. Mist rises, obscuring my view as the gate creaks slowly open. The anticipatory nicker is met with a treat from a bulging pocket, the standard hello to her very best friend. The thought of the soft, warm muzzle on her hand takes me back to my childhood - to days spent lounging in the sun, the scent of grass in the air, my cheek resting softly against a warm, furry shoulder. For a moment… she is me. The gate closes with a bang, and I am back in the present. The chill air reminds me that it is early. It is too early even for the birds, but my daughter is awake. She greeted the morning with a smile, ready to go. Today is show day. Groomed and sparkling, she enters the ring. She looks back to her trainer for a show of support. Her hero - her mentor - smiles, with a thumbs-up. She is ready to go. Eyes focused, she moves as a team with her treasured ally, the hours of work culminating in this precious moment. Gathering herself, she releases, and they soar – love, hope and grace in a blazer and boots. I hold my breath, perching on the precipice between pride and terror. Hoofs pound back to the gate. She is smiling. Later, we watch the elite riders compete. No more ponies - these horses were born to the ring. Eyes wide, she watches as hoofs pound past - riders focused, with serious intent. Muscles flexing, they spring toward the sky. I see the look in my daughters’ eyes. This is her destiny. She is the rider, defying gravity, touching the moon. There is no limit to how far she can go. She thinks to herself, someday… The rider finishes her circuit, turns and looks back, eyes resting for a moment on this slight, 10 year old girl with dirt on her face. Her eyes soften in recognition. At that moment, she is back in the pasture, a carrot in her pocket, and a pony at the gate. She thinks to herself… she is me.