Saddle without a horse

Growing up, I always heard about my Dad's horse named "Sunday". He used to ride the horse to visit my mother when they were teenagers which would piss my Grandfather off to no end because the horse would shit on his lawn.

When my Dad moved to California from Arkansas, Sunday was long gone but Dad brought the saddle with him. As young girls, my sister and I would sit on that saddle in our bedroom floor and dream of the day when there would be a horse to go under it. That dream never came true as Dad finally decided to sell the saddle via a newspaper and along went our hopes of owning a horse.

Last night as I was walking, I saw this saddle sitting on the crook of a tree and was reminded of my horsey dreams of 40-years ago. I know the little boy who lives in this house must love sitting here. Perhaps he has horsey dreams of his own.