The Horse's Gift — Helping Us Through the Tough Times

by Marie Llanes

When I was a little girl I was fortunate enough to have a mom who was horse crazy. There are pictures in my scrapbook of us riding together on her horse when I was barely able to sit up. She purchased my first pony for me, a black and white Pinto named “Trinket.” We spent so many hours together riding, sometimes I would go sit on her in the pasture across from the railroad tracks, waiting for the Rock Island Rocket. The engineer would always wave. As I got older I graduated to full-size horses and competed in 4-H and other local horse shows on my mom’s Half-Arabian named “Chinook Breeze”. Mom was always there with a dandy brush, lots of encouragement and a checkbook!

This is me at about age three on my mom's ranch-bred gelding Shimmy.

I graduated from college and got married and moved from my parents’ home in the Tucson desert to a townhome in Houston. I had little time to ride and no place to keep a horse, so I sold my horse and took riding lessons once a week. I just couldn’t give them up completely. Then children then came, a full-time job, a house, life got in the way. With no time for lessons I would just slow down and look at the horses in the pastures along my route home and dream. In 1986 we had the opportunity to move back to Colorado. It was like coming home and the dream of having my own horse started stirring.

I am about 15 years old in this photo with Chinook Breeze.

One day my son Max, who was 14 at the time, brought home a new friend, his mother had horses! She invited me to ride with her and the magic came back! We became good friends, and they had eight horses, some of which hadn’t been ridden in years. This was my opportunity! The satisfaction of being with the horses, the smell of horse sweat and leather an aroma that should be packaged and sold! I was in heaven, my life was magical — a beautiful home, a great husband, two perfect successful boys and horses.

There was a voice inside my head saying “go to the horses” over and over.

My eldest son Max went off to college in Alaska, and I found myself with more time. I missed him so much, so I started volunteering for an Arabian Racehorse Rescue. I mucked stalls, groomed, rode and made friends with some of the most amazing and sometimes frightened souls. It was an affirmation that I could make a difference and the difference in me was noticeable. One of these horses was a 14-year-old endurance-bred Polish Arabian horse named CBM Aladdin (Boilermaker x CMB Bezelle), a descendant of the famous Bezatal who won the Tevis Cup twice in record time. The first time I was invited to ride him was in October of 2011. No one told me that he had not been handled in over ten years! It took me a while to catch him, but when I did, he accepted being saddled and lunged. I thought, “Why not?” We went on a ten-mile ride; Aladdin jigged the entire way. I was afraid to let him have his head for fear he would run off with me, so I endured. When we returned to the ranch he was sweaty and my hands were blistered, and my body tired to the bone. When they asked me to come back, I declined thinking I just don’t need this in my life right now, there were too many other horses that I would enjoy more.

My friend Cheryl Mathews and me on Aladdin early in our journey. Cheryl always joked that she had to ride with me so they would know where to find the body.

Christmas of 2011 anticipating having my son Max home from school on winter break something horrible happened. I got a call from my son’s roommate; he hadn’t heard from Max in more than 24 hours, he was missing. The next hours were excruciating, my beautiful child missing. Alaska is such a formidable place, but my son was a confident and experienced outdoorsman, an Eagle Scout, surely he was ok. Then the police came to the door. I knew why they were there but couldn’t make myself believe it. Max was dead; my successful, wonderful 21-year-old son had taken his own life. I went into a spiral; I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, it was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. 

“Even the crazy Aladdin came to stand by us with his head touching my chest. That is when I found the power of the horse. I knew at that moment I had a place to take my sorrow...”

There was a voice inside my head saying "go to the horses" over and over. I heard it… finally I got the courage and strength to drive to the ranch. When I arrived the horses in the nearby pasture were laying in the sun, resting calm and tranquil. Somehow, I couldn’t believe that the world was the same because my world was shattered. I walked out to the herd and all but one got to their feet looking for treats or just some attention. “Sam” (a retired racer) remained lying down, poised to jump up with his feet under him. I got closer and he didn’t move; I knelt beside him, he turned his head and gave me a knowing look. I started to cry uncontrollably; I told him of the tragedy, how I didn’t know if I could go on. I buried my head in his mane sobbing. Sam then did something I would never have expected. He pulled me closer to him with his head. A horse hug of sorts, I cried harder. Then he laid down completely cast as if inviting me to rest with him. We stayed together there lying in the pasture for some time. Even the crazy Aladdin came to stand by us with his head touching my chest. That is when I found the power of the horse. I knew at that moment I had a place to take my sorrow and uncertainty about life where it was safe and maybe just maybe I could figure out how to continue. In the nights that followed I started to dream about that “crazy red horse, Aladdin”. In early March of 2012, I saddled Aladdin again; this time things were different. I could feel his need for a connection, and I needed something to transform my sorrow. That first 12-18 months were touch and go. Aladdin was quick and confident, he dumped me many times and he would just leave and head back to the ranch or the trailer, leaving me on the ground bruised and bewildered. In fact, the first time I tried to get him in the trailer it took four and a half hours! I had no time to think about could have, would have, should have; I just needed to “keep a leg in each corner”. I rode this incredible horse for nine years, even though it took a while, he turned out to be a prince, loaded in the trailer all by himself, scaled the roughest terrain and kept me as his partner. This horse saved my life, even though I have ridden hundreds and owned many there will never be another Aladdin, he came into my life for a reason and will never be forgotten and always cherished.

CBM Aladdin and me at Sandstone open space in Colorado in 2020.

Throughout the years I have gone to several clinics using horses in psychotherapy and learning about grief and forgiveness. I currently board at Judges Choice where there are several Arabian horses. I currently ride a Morgan, but Arabians will always hold a special place in my heart.

I have been saved, I ride several times a week, I touch and speak to my greatest gift, the one my mother and my son gave me, the horse.