Thursday, September 23, 2010

A Horse Called . . .


Once upon a time (as all good stories began) and ever so long ago I was a tiny little girl.  From what I’ve been told my stubbornness, mischievousness, and love for words has only become stronger over the years.  As all tiny little girls should, I had a rocking horse.  I loved riding back and forth and back and forth.  My horse and I traveled over the rainbow to cloudland, through a deep and scary forest – making friends with an ogre or two along the way, and across the burning Sahara – assisting Aladin and his many, many friends.  We were best buds – my horse and I!  Quite often my horse found his way across my room during the dark hours of the night and Daddy would find me asleep in the morning – exhausted from the excursions through dreamland – with my hand resting upon the mane of my trusty stead.  Our adventures were many and I knew my friend well.

“Your horse might sleep better in his stall rather than leaning against your bedrails,” Daddy reported to the tiny little girl.

“Cow,” she returned mischievously.

“Horse.” Daddy played the game well.

“Cow.”

“Horse.”

“Cow.”  Horse snickered at my silliness.  We had just returned from a thunderous night capturing a band of cattle rustlers.  Singlehandedly, we had saved the herd!

“Pig.”  Daddy grinned.

“Pig . . .” the tiny little girl agreed, wondering where Daddy’s new story was going to lead.

“Horse,” Daddy grinned.  The tiny little girl had agreed!

I heard the beautiful pink curtain rustle in the breeze.

I rolled out from underneath my rose-covered comforter, climbed onto Daddy’s pajamaed lap, wrapped my tiny little arms around his neck, cuddled into his chin stubble, and whispered into his ear . . .

“Cow.”

. . . and they lived happily ever after!

Happy Birthday Daddy!
Sending you my love forever!

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