The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

sitting on its back, her legs hanging one off each side. She held bits of string
or something in her hands, and the strings were attached to the pony’s head.
The girl was laughing, her face wide open with joy, and it was clear even to
me that she meant to be on the pony. She was directing the pony, telling it
what to do. Riding the pony. And the pony was running hard.
I knew ponies from the lane but had only seen them pull carts. I hadn’t
known you could ride them. I hadn’t known they could go so fast.
The girl leaned forward against the pony’s flying mane. Her lips moved as
though she was shouting something. Her legs thumped the pony’s sides, and
the pony surged forward, faster, brown legs flying, eyes bright. They ran
alongside the train as it curved around their field.
I saw a stone wall ahead of them. I gasped. They were going to hit it. They
were going to be hurt. Why didn’t she stop the pony?
They jumped it. They jumped the stone wall, and kept running, while the
train tracks turned away from their field.
Suddenly I could feel it, the running, the jump. The smoothness, the flying
—I recognized it with my whole body, as though it was something I’d done a
hundred times before. Something I loved to do. I tapped the window. “I’m
going to do that,” I said.
Jamie laughed.
“Why not?” I said to him.
“You walk pretty good,” he said.
I didn’t tell him that my foot hurt so bad I wasn’t sure I’d ever walk again.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”