My daughter was 9 when she said she'd like to take horseback riding lessons. I likely was indulging my own horse-filled childhood fantasies when I immediately sought a stable where she could learn to ride.

Now my daughter is 22. Our foray into the equine world has ended. She graduated from college and is ready to embark on an independent life, but I'm left with a sense of unease: Did the bond we developed over a horse-centric passion roll away as her horse Holly rode off to a new home?

As a child, I was wild about horses. I collected horse figurines and plastic figures. I filled scrapbooks with horse photos. I envisioned my backyard with a horse grazing in it. I took riding lessons and went trail riding.

When my daughter fell in love with the creatures it was easy for me to indulge her. Her weekly riding lessons became twice weekly. Summer camps had horses. Vacations included trail rides.

Within a few years she longed to enter the horse show world. I was determined she would have what I never could - a horse of her own.

On an icy January day we brought our newly purchased Quarter Horse to the stable where my daughter rode. My daughter was 14. From then on, our lives revolved around lessons, horse shows and the pursuit of appropriate tack and show clothes. During show season - April through September - I helped my daughter bathe, groom and tack up Holly, as well as be sure her own makeup, hair and clothes met exacting horse show specifications.

The ride - both literal and figurative - was not always smooth. There were countless hours idling on bleachers, in freezing stables or under the scorching summer sun. There was plenty of frustration when Holly did not cooperate in the show ring. There were days we'd be at the barn until 9 p.m. and return the next day by 6 a.m.

But I had the pleasure of witnessing my daughter's growth and sharing her lessons in patience, perseverance, loyalty and focus. When the brutal teen years kicked her in the stomach, I found a sense of peace in the solace and friendship she found at the stable. Best of all, I was there when she experienced triumph: after years of work and training, she and Holly achieved significant show ring milestones.

After my daughter's freshman year in college, Holly joined her in Virginia, meaning I had fewer opportunities to share the horse experience. But when we visited our daughter, I looked forward to a couple of hours watching her ride.

When graduation day approached we all knew Holly needed a new home. My daughter soon would move to embark on a career. She would have neither time nor money to support a horse. Still, my stomach flipped and my heart crumbled as I spoke with prospective new owners.

I was both happy and relieved when we found a new owner we knew would love Holly. Still, I am glad I was not there the day the horse left. It would have been difficult for me to watch the animal I had fallen in love with ride away. Even tougher would have been seeing the living manifestation of a bond I have cherished literally disappear over the horizon.

The author

Gail Braccidiferro is currently an assistant professor in residence at the University of Connecticut and makes her home in Pawcatuck, where she is chair of the Stonington Board of Education.