(Once in awhile, we like to share with our readers some stories about Cowgirls and why they love the western lifestyle. This is one from our fabulous go-to gal Brittany who handles some fabulous social media and promotions tasks for Western Glamour Media)

Just the other day our family lost our beloved horse Cricket. She had soft eyes, an amazing personality and my heart. She had my four year old daughters heart too. I sobbed silently in my bathroom, I still do not have the heart to tell my children. Especially my four year old.

I sat and reflected. Ten years ago I would never had been as heart broken as I was today. Ten years ago I never understood the Western Lifestyle or how the South would be my second love in life.  Ten years ago I met my husband and my life turned around. I was city and he was country.

My voice went from plain to accentuated thick from Texas. I begun to say Ma’am and Sir. I held doors open for everyone. I referred to anyone as Y’all. I taught my children manners and how to swing from a tree into the river. I learned the best babysitter was a twenty acre pasture, brood mares and the open air.

The first time I ran my fingers in Crickets mane I felt a force. A friendship. Her mothering eyes looked at me in an understanding and unspoken way. I smiled and never let go. I was caught in a lifestyle that I would never want to leave.

Everyone is family, everyone is friends. Animals became the best stress relief. The green pastures became the best place to lay down and watch the never ending sky. The barn was the best place to sit and cry or just think.

The summer of 2006 was the summer my life really changed. Not only did I finally marry my husband, but I bonded with a great man. A man that was raised atop a horse. A man that was a small town southern man. The man that I soon called Daddy. My father in law.

He taught me how to two step, how to waltz to Willie Nelson, how to smoke the best brisket. He taught me how to throw back the coldest beer, hop on a horse and run. He showed me the beauty in a horse. He forced me to man up and carry a bale of hay from the barn. He was right next to me helping when one of our mares was giving birth. He showed me how to imprint a new born colt. A feeling, a moment that will never be forgotten. He showed me the best chaps, spurs, boots and hat one would need to work the horses.  He handed me a large gun and showed me how to make the perfect shot. He showed me how to string up the buck I shot, skin it and get the meat to fill my freezer. He taught me what a trot line was.  He made me get down, dig in and get dirty. He walked me down the aisle, holding my hand tightly, telling me how amazing I was.

That summer I learned to fully appreciate everything in the Western world. From watching lightning bugs on sultry summer nights to saddling up and riding for freedom. To appreciate being hell bent on doing it on my own. To never stop being amazed by the beauty and love of a horse. To raise my kids up right. To have faith, hope, love, passion and most of all roots.

Brittany A Hudson – Greer

This post is sponsored by The Pink Spur