The Rocking Horse

There a not a lot of possessions I have that I could not leave behind and give up. One of the items, though, that I would rescue out of a burning house without thinking much about it is my wooden rocking horse. When I mention that to people or when they see it first when they come into the apartment, they usually laugh and think it's a silly thing to hold on to or have in your apartment. But there's so much more to this horse than it being a pretty and decorative piece of furniture or an old childhood toy.

On Christmas Eve when I was five years old, my brother and I had already unpacked our presents and started playing when my father asked me if I hadn't missed one present. I looked up and around the room and then my eyes widened. There was a wooden rocking horse hidden behind the drapes that I  hadn't seen before. "For me?" I asked and ran towards it. For the rest of the night and most of the following years it would be my favorite toy in the world. From cowboy, stagecoach, to circus or just a girl and its horse roaming freely around the world, there was no limit to my imagination when it came to games involving the horse. Latter, girl and horse riding through a wide and open country, was my favorite and I'm incredibly happy that I am, indeed, going to travel freely across the US. I just replaced the horse with a motorcycle. Same color, though... 

The horse and I have been through a lot. Yet, apart from a few tiny scratches it looks almost as good as it did when I got it, 36 years ago. That's one of the reasons why I love this horse. The main reason, however, is that my father built it. He spent countless hours, evenings, weekends in his workshop in the basement, sawing, gluing, filing, constantly concerned that I might walk in and spoil the surprise. While the monetary value of the plywood and glue he used was probably just a few bucks, for me it's invaluable and I would never give it up, no matter the price. Every time I look at it, I can see my father standing in his workshop, sawing, gluing, and filing away. And while he did that he imagined my reaction. My eyes lighting up when I would first see the horse (I still feel bad that I missed it at first), my smile and laughter when I played with it (though I don't think he expected the actual extend of my love for this horse). Now that I am older, I see much more than just his beautiful work of art. I can see his boundless love for me that he wasn't that good at expressing in words. But he sure did an excellent job expressing it with all the work he put into the horse. Ever single time I look at it, I feel all fuzzy and warm and loved. Very much loved.