Sometimes he would come on Thursday and not even be able to get out of the car because of the seizures. Still he came, week after week.

His caretakers said he knew when it was Thursday, even though he knew little else and could not communicate how he knew. He could see, but not speak, could not even sit up unassisted. Yet, he knew when it was his day to go ride. He was only ten, and he didn’t live to his teens.

Nevertheless, his story, which includes horses and horsepeople who made him smile and gave him something to look forward to one day a week, must be told.

Many years have passed and many children have benefited from various therapeutic riding programs. But none touched me as much as this one boy. He required a steady horse, one with patience with his rider’s inability to balance and an understanding of the boy’s need to occasionally lay his face on the mane and just breathe in horse smells. We had several wonderful horses that filled the bill.

One volunteer would walk beside this youngster on the right and help hold him in the saddle, one would control the horse and another would walk on his left to steady him and be his instructor for the day. Any breakthroughs, no matter how small, were recognized and rewarded. A smile, an attempt to move a hand or leg in the right direction, even attention focused on the instructor or the horse were considered achievements.

One week, he was in very good spirits. This followed several weeks when he was either too ill to come or he had suffered seizures in the car and was forced to miss his lesson with the horses. But that day, he smiled. He seemed alert and willing.