She dreamt a dream long, long ago. We listened, ears tilted, from the table behind. We heard her whisper her tale to the lady at the table beside her. She told of her love of horses and riding. She whispered her dream. She smiled on the outside. Her life's passion throbbing deep below. She was athletic as a young girl, but young girls long ago did not have the same opportunities as the young boys. Oh what a joy riding did give her she said. You could see the sparkle in her eyes. She told of a girl disguised; disguised as a boy so that she could exercise the horses. The men watched a young spirit riding free along the rail not knowing it was really a female wrapped in boys clothes racing to her dreams. Her horse kicking up the turf behind as if to say, "Hang on tight my ponytailed rider, I will set you free, if only for a moment in time." She sat there for the longest time absorbing the sound of pounding hooves, the sights of a thousand dreams. I sensed some discontent. I saw a breath of acceptance. The door was open a bit wider now. The track sprinkled with female riders warming and coaxing the galloping thunder below. Later we spotted our pink lady on the backstretch taking a walking tour of the barns. She was waxing nostalgic just as we were. She had a little trot in her eighty year old step. I think the good memories had smothered the sad. I will remember the day for some time and the young girl in the straw hat.