You know the proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child”? Our village is my daughter’s barn family, which by default is my barn family. She’s growing up happier and more well-adjusted due to the warmth of her barn community. I’m indebted to everyone who plays a part, the many I have come to rely upon and trust. 

Thank you to the barn moms for shuttling my daughter home when I’m spread paper thin. The moms who schlep my kid to horse shows when I’m overcommitted, cheer for her in my place, buy her icy-cold drinks and adjust her hair net. You invite my daughter out to lunch, to swim, to sleepover. By fostering my daughter’s friendships with your horsey daughters—the kids who most understand her—you make a profound difference in her life. 

Barn moms, I’m also grateful when you for talk me down at the in-gate. When I’m fretting about my kid, you remind me that she’ll be fine. You happily video her rounds because my hands shake. During the tough times, when I share, “I’m not sure why we do the horses; they cause her dad and me so much stress,” you listen and empathize without judgement, because you get it. Your kindness helps me manage my emotions, so I can muster up the good vibes and put positive energy into mothering. 

Thank you to the barn manager who busts her butt. You work endlessly to ensure the horses are gleaming, yet still find time to mentor my daughter. When I drop her off at 9 a.m. and pick her up sweaty and fulfilled at the end of the day, many of those hours she’s spent with you. Though she often slows your roll, you never make her think she’s a burden. At the end of those long days, before she scrambles into the car, you hug her and compliment her for being helpful. That hug touches me. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I’m positive having a giggly teen on your tail wasn’t in your job description, yet you strive to shape my daughter into a good horsewoman. 

Thank you to the group of girls at the barn who are sweet and accepting, the girls who tell her she’s a competent rider and valued friend. You embrace my daughter regardless of age, parental income or the brand of tall boots she wears. You teach her what it means to belong. You boost her self-worth without any of the snarkiness that can plague equestrians. 

At the show ring, you stand shoulder to shoulder, cheering. When you shout, “You’ve got this!” She glances over, beaming at your smiling faces before she picks up her trot. She completes her last circle, and you hoot and holler even if she’s chipped a few jumps. You compete in the same divisions at times and root for one another regardless. You are my daughter’s support network, her lifter-uppers. Her favorites. 

Thank you to the assistant trainer. The woman who organizes the tedious horse show entries, teaches lessons and steps in when the head trainer is away. Once, when my daughter groomed with you at a horse show, you shot me a pic of her sad old paddock boots, so worn she couldn’t zip them anymore. Initially, I felt a pang of shame, but it was quickly replaced by appreciation. Because along with the head trainer, you surprised my daughter with a shiny new pair, “In recognition of her hard work helping at shows.” My daughter was in shock at this unexpected gift. These boots are an act of kindness.  

Thank you to the adult ammies at the barn for encouraging my teen. For chatting with her even when you have places to rush to. You demonstrate true horsemanship daily. You handle hurdles like lameness with grace and positivity. You show her how to avoid getting mired down in the bad rides. You take an unexpected tumble, but rally, hungrier and more driven than ever. You fight through fear and insecurity in the saddle. You remain humble, enter the show ring with a smile because you realize it brings you joy, regardless of placing. You laugh instead of cry when you have a perfect round then, oops, go off course. You are her idols. She’s watching you.

The barn staff who always greet my daughter with a smile, I haven’t forgotten you. Recently, when one longtime worker left, my daughter cried on the drive home: “He was so sweet. I’m going to miss seeing him every day.” This is how important you are. You aren’t just cleaning stalls.

The veterinarian who takes her precious time to engage my daughter, allowing her to pepper you with questions mid-exam, I see you, too. You’re on a tight schedule, yet encourage her curiosity, foster her passion and let her watch you at work. She’s worth your time, and this resonates with her and me. 

Finally, how can I fully thank the trainer who took on a little girl with a deep love for horses but without the same love for herself? A timid girl on the cusp of giving up, riddled with self-doubt. Because of you, she’s matured into a confident rider and strong young woman. 

You’re the most influential person in her life. It isn’t Laura Kraut (though, hot damn, she’s amazing); it isn’t Taylor Swift; it isn’t the next big TikTok influencer; and it’s certainly not me, her cringy mom. It’s you. You are the woman she emulates. You are the person she cares most to impress. When I ask her what she sees herself doing after high school, she says, “I want to be like her.” You handle her admiration for you with delicacy instead of exploiting it.  

You also hold her accountable, which she needs. The time you turned to her and said, “This bit needs to be clean. It’s unfair to your horse if you hang it without scrubbing it,” she heard you. She won’t make that error again. You’ve told her if she wants you to trust her to handle the horses, she must be truthful, serious and responsible. You’re teaching her integrity. You’re sparing with compliments, so she knows when you say she “rode thoughtfully,” she’s earned it. When you offer her an extra horse to ride, she’s honored. She strives to live up to the expectations you set for her.

You keep both my daughter and me focused on the future when horse life throws a curveball, and you guide us through tricky situations that make me want to call it quits on horses. You don’t make us feel less-than when our budget seems paltry and our horse search implausible. Thank you for reminding us that, at the end of the day, any time we get with these magical creatures is lucky time.  

When you squeeze my kid, tell her you missed her after your trip or away show, the warmth of that moment lingers because she misses you when you are gone. 

I recognizer a trainer’s job can take a mighty toll with the many non-equine hats you wear: fill-in parent, teacher-of-life-lessons, therapist. The long hours, high maintenance horses and personalities, missed family time. It must be exhausting playing fairy godmother, constantly trying to make clients’ dreams come true. But you are valued and appreciated. 

You once said to me, “I love your daughter.” I can tell you, unwaveringly, my daughter knows this in her heart. I know it, too.

Every member of my daughter’s barn family comprises the village in which my child is safe and cared for. In the wrong environment, this sport can knock the wind right out of you. However, you all illustrate the good and kindness in horses and in life, during a time my daughter could easily grow cynical. You are all part of whom she has become and is yet to become as she matures into adulthood. For this, I thank you. 

Jamie Sindell has an MFA in creative writing from the University of Arizona and has ridden and owned hunters on and off throughout her life. She is a mom of five kids, ages 3 to 14. She and her family reside at Wish List Farm, where her horse crazy girls play with their small pony, Cupcake, and her son and husband play with the tractor.