You flip my latch, and I hear the familiar 'click' of the padlock. I know what this means. We are loading up to go off on another adventure together. I'm packed tight with your most recent conditioners and brushes along with a few crinkled programs from our past endeavors. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the lightest thing to carry, but I know I am one of the most important things that is always loaded first. I'm locked into the trailer along with bags of bedding, buckets of a random assortment of feeds, and a few feed pans and we are on our way.
Will it be a quick trip to the county fairgrounds or a long haul cross country? I don't ever know until we get there. But I'm ok with that. With you I've been able to see it all. I've seen the days when your hands are trembling with excitement because you finally won the big banner. I've been there to catch your tears that you somehow keep hidden from everyone else after your load up that favorite one onto the semi at the end of the last show of the season. I've even seen the days where you throw your brush or comb or halter in frustration when the results didn't go your way. Don't worry, I don't take it personally and you know I won't tell anyone.
I am the one thing that has been constant all these years together. I carry a little more dirt and grime than I did when you opened me up with excitement that Christmas morning, but my purpose has never changed. Even with your family's name on my lid gradually rubbing off, I still manage to make every trip you take. Each year you get different animals. After a couple shows, my contents change. Overtime you meet new friends and make new connections. But I am always here. Same old same old. Reliable and steady.
One day you will flip my latch and click the padlock for the last time. Our adventures will be over and I will sit in my corner of the barn and not leave. Until of course, you pass me onto the next generation. It will be a bittersweet day that is inevitable to anyone who does what we do. But I do want you to know one thing; after we leave the fairgrounds for the last time, after the barn is empty for good, after you have retired your exhibitor number into one of my compartments, I will want to say thank-you for the ride old friend. Thank-you for the ride.
Will it be a quick trip to the county fairgrounds or a long haul cross country? I don't ever know until we get there. But I'm ok with that. With you I've been able to see it all. I've seen the days when your hands are trembling with excitement because you finally won the big banner. I've been there to catch your tears that you somehow keep hidden from everyone else after your load up that favorite one onto the semi at the end of the last show of the season. I've even seen the days where you throw your brush or comb or halter in frustration when the results didn't go your way. Don't worry, I don't take it personally and you know I won't tell anyone.
I am the one thing that has been constant all these years together. I carry a little more dirt and grime than I did when you opened me up with excitement that Christmas morning, but my purpose has never changed. Even with your family's name on my lid gradually rubbing off, I still manage to make every trip you take. Each year you get different animals. After a couple shows, my contents change. Overtime you meet new friends and make new connections. But I am always here. Same old same old. Reliable and steady.
One day you will flip my latch and click the padlock for the last time. Our adventures will be over and I will sit in my corner of the barn and not leave. Until of course, you pass me onto the next generation. It will be a bittersweet day that is inevitable to anyone who does what we do. But I do want you to know one thing; after we leave the fairgrounds for the last time, after the barn is empty for good, after you have retired your exhibitor number into one of my compartments, I will want to say thank-you for the ride old friend. Thank-you for the ride.