Just because life hands you lemons doesn’t mean you always get lemonade. I learned that lesson the hard way. Sometimes the lemons have seeds, and sometimes they go bad. I was sixteen when I learned that life didn’t owe me anything, whether I was ready to figure that out or not. I remember the day well. It was a warm June afternoon when I walked down the stable drive, the gravel crunching beneath my boot-clad feet. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to give in to them. Not yet, anyway. My father walked a few steps behind me, knowing I needed this time to myself. The coolness of the barn swallowed me while I walked down the cement aisle. I found my way to Nick’s stall without even thinking about it. I could locate it in the dark, having been to it so many times before. Lifting his halter off the wooden hook, I headed out to the field to retrieve him. Nick had been a gift to me shortly before my eleventh birthday. I had been riding horses for nearly two years, and my parents decided I was ready for the responsibility of horse ownership. Nick was the perfect first horse: gentle, patient, and forgiving. He introduced me to the life lessons about love and responsibility. He showed me what did and did not work with my riding. In return, I taught him how what it was like to be loved by a little girl. He depended on me to take proper care of him, but most of all we had fun together. From trail rides to jumping courses, camp-outs and swimming, we knew how to enjoy each other’s company. When I was sixteen years old the news came. The price to board at the stable had increased, and we could no longer afford to keep him. We were fortunate enough to find him a loving family with two more girls that could love on him. That fact hardly soothed me, however. Going to the barn to ship him away would rip my heart out. I slowly made the hike across the rolling emerald hills, trying to delay the inevitable. Nick noticed me immediately, and lifted his elegant head from the patch of grass he was nibbling on. He looked beautiful and content; he was unaware of how our lives were about to be changed. I choked back a sob as he sauntered up to me and searched my pockets for the carrots he knew I always had. He stood absolutely still as I slipped a halter on -- just as I had taught him. We strolled back to the barn, stopping every so often so he could say good-bye to some of the horses that we passed. Tears rolled down my face as I groomed him one last time. Everyone left me alone, allowing me to spend a few last moments alone with him. I carefully brushed his already immaculate coat. Faded rays of sunshine snuck in through an open window, casting a shine on his silky copper body. I fed him treat after treat, knowing it would be the last time I would ever feel his velvety lips tickle my hand. Questions were flooding my mind as the minutes passed, pushing us closer and closer to good-bye. How was I to say good-bye to someone so special? How could I think of something to say when I would never see my best friend again? How could I to say “thank you?” And how was I to explain to him that it wasn’t his fault, or that he was never coming back, or that we’d never be together again? The family arrived as I was packing up Nick’s belongings: his halter, some buckets, his sheet, and a few other personal belongings. Then the tears hit me. They flowed down my cheeks and into his fur as I hugged his neck tightly, not wanting to let go. I tried to maintain my composure as the new owners arrived, though the attempt was weak. It was time to suck it up, load him in the dark metal trailer, and say good-bye. Nick refused to get into the trailer. His dark eyes connected with my own, a look of fear coming over him. He knew this trip was different. He wouldn’t be going to jump a winning round at a riding competition, and he wasn’t going out for a trail ride. Instead, my best friend would be leaving the only person he had ever truly trusted. It took him several tries before he lifted his strong hindquarters into the trailer and waited as we securely tied him in place. His muscles rippled and twisted as he stood nervously, unwilling to relax. His new owners hopped into the truck and prepared to leave. He nickered noisily to me: his own heart-wrenching good-bye. That was when I had my breakdown. I watched helplessly as the trailer made its way up the drive and down the road, sobs choking me as my father wrapped me in his arms. I could hardly breathe as I ran the length of the field, sprinting to get away from the pain, tears blinding me as I stumbled through the thick grass. I found a quiet spot on the far hill, a place to sit in my own pain, and gazed at the herd of horses. The sun had shifted since my last trip out there. I watched the horses nibble grass and play amongst themselves, oblivious to the recent events that had affected me so much. It was almost reassuring; life goes on regardless of what happens in our own individual lives. I stayed out there for a long time. It was peaceful. I cried until the tears would no longer come. I thought of the lessons Nick had taught me, about responsibility and the meaning of unconditional love. I realized then how much I had taken him for granted. I had always appreciated him and knew how lucky I was to have a horse like him, but I never realized that there would come a day when I would no longer be able to hug him, ride him, or cry into his mane. He was the one I could tell all of my secrets to, or turn to when I had a problem and just wanted to talk. I reflected on the time spent with him. I would always have the memories. No one would be able to take those away from me, even if I never saw Nick’s beautiful face again. I would always be able to look through the photo albums and just remember. I would go on to take those recollections to heart, and learn from them. Not all stories have a happy ending, and this one is no exception. Life isn’t always fair to us, and sometimes we’re handed things that test us and push us to our limits. This experience had forced me to grow up a little bit. My fairy tale life came crashing down on me, but there was a moral to my story: life isn’t always going to be easy, and sometimes you get thrown a sour lemon. We can learn from these experiences and use them to help us grow… to try to turn our lemons into lemonade.