Heirloom

The darkness is gone and suddenly I’m alive. The wipe of the towel on my eyes and face reveal the sunshine. A man wearing a hat is finishing up polishing my painted metal body. 

My brothers and sisters are ahead of me and behind me. Each one with a golden pole standing them upright ready for the endless race. When does it start? I wonder.

There is a lot of waiting and quiet. 

Suddenly organ music plays and my pole pulls me up then down as the world spins around me. We’re off! Exhilaration fills my heart. This is what I was made for.

It still feels like something is missing… We travel around some more before the men leave. Night falls, and I wait again.

The day finally comes when the park opens and children are lining up to see me! They climb on and say “Giddy Up!” The squeals of delight fill my heart with joy. 

A little girl in a pink dress approaches. Her big, brown eyes are wide with wonder and excitement. Her father lifts her onto my back. She leans down and whispers, “You’re my favorite.” She’s suddenly my favorite, too.

The little girl comes again the next day. She takes no time to choose me again. I hear, “I want to ride my favorite horse again!” as she pulls her father to me. I am a happy horse.

The little girl remains my favorite. She comes often and strokes my ear. The paint on my ear starts to fade and the metal shows through shiny with the continual polishing of her strokes. I don’t mind. I am happy to see her. 

As time goes by my little girl gets bigger. Soon she can climb on without her father’s help but he is still there. He smiles as he watches her race by, waving excitedly with each pass. Her visits become less frequent. 

My little girl is back! She is tall now. Her face has changed. However, she is over by the tree. Her father stands next to her. No… Not her father. This man is younger. Who is this man? They lay down a blanket and eat together. She is smiling so big. I wish she would come for a ride. Other children come and go but I wait for her. 

The little girl leaves with the strange man. They are holding hands. I miss my little girl. 

Later that evening I see them again. They stop under the tree. They seem to be trying to leave but linger. As if something is keeping them there. 

After the man finally pulls himself away, the little girl comes toward me. She rubs my ear as she sits quietly on my back. A happy sigh behind me lifts my heart. She is a happy girl. I am a happy horse.

I continue to see my little girl. She continues to change. She is bigger now. Her middle has grown and she holds herself as if carrying precious cargo. She looks happy. I am happy to see her even though she doesn’t ride me.

It is a long time before I see my little girl again. Other children come. I am still happy to see them. Their bright faces and excited squeals make my days pass with joy. When she comes she is tired. There is a little boy who looks like my little girl. He hugs my little girl and calls her “Mama.”

The little boy runs to choose his horse. He doesn’t choose me but she rubs my ear as she passes. I am still her favorite, I know, and she is mine. I am a happy horse.

The little boy comes, but not as much as the little girl did before. They are busy. 

It is quiet in the park today. Where is the organ music? Where is the man who starts the race? There are no children on the platform today, though I see them playing off in the field. I am alone, but happy to see the children play.

The little girl is back. Her face is changed again. She has still has those big, brown eyes, but skin sags around them. Her face is wrinkled with age. She sits on my back though there is no music and no race. She lays her head down on my mane and cries. Why is my little girl sad?... Did I make her sad?

She comes a few times more. Quietly she sits as she looks out on the fields and allows quiet tears to roll down. She is so sad these days… I wish I could make her happy.

The little boy is back. It has been many years. He is tall now, a man. In one hand, he holds the hand of a woman. The other has some sort of jar or vase. 

“Here?” She asks him. 

“She used to come here with my grandpa a lot as a kid. And I think my parents would have picnics and meet each other when they were young. It had a lot of memories for her.”

Together they empty the jar. After standing quietly for a while they walk toward me. 

“How sad…” She murmurs. 

“My mom brought me here a few times. It was pretty old even then. I guess it wasn’t worth keeping it running. I wonder…” He trails off. I wish he would come ride me. I don’t understand all that they said, but I feel a sadness. 

Everything is changing. 

Where is my little girl? I miss her.

More quiet days. No more children. They no longer play in the fields. There is nothing for them to play. 

The little boy, or man, is back. He is with another man and they are discussing something and pointing at the platform. My boy comes to me with his tools. He saws at my pole. Where am I going? 

“I don’t know why you’d want this piece of junk. It’s just been sitting in the weather and wearing down.”

“I’ve got a plan for it,” my boy responds.

After loading me into a truck he takes me away. I wonder what will become of my brothers and sisters on the platform. Will he take them, too? 

We arrive somewhere strange. There are tools and vehicles all around. Is this my new home? There are no children here. It looks a little scary. 

Although I am nervous, the boy lovingly looks over my paint. The colors are faded and chipped… Parts of my metal are shining through from being rubbed down, especially my ear. I don’t mind the fading and wearing of my colors… They are signs of the joy of children. 

The boy works for hours. He removes my pole. My metal feels the soft strokes of the brush as he brings my color back. I cannot see myself but the sight of the bright gold is reflecting off the surfaces around me. I feel beautiful again. 

The final touch, wheels placed under my hooves. It doesn’t look quite right, but the man tests my mobility with a smile on his face. “This’ll do just fine,” he remarks.

Another trip in the truck and I am in a room. I see colors all around me. Toys on the floor and tiny dresses hang in the open wardrobe. The door opens and I hear a gasp.

“Daddy! Is it for me?” 

The little girl’s big brown eyes are wide with excitement. Familiar eyes. I almost think my little girl is back. But no… She is different. Almost the same but darker. Her hair is curlier. She smiles at my face and rubs my ear. 

“You're my favorite toy,” she whispers. I am a happy horse.

“It is huge… What were you thinking?” The woman looks amused but a little baffled. 

“It’s a conversation starter! She loves it, dear. I think it was a great idea.” 

My little girl needs help up. Sometimes the man pushes her on the wheels but mostly they just pretend. 

“Giddy up, horse!”

The girl grows. I am put to the side. Eventually I am put in the attic. It is quiet and lonely. I wait. I miss my little girl. Time goes by slowly. 

When my girl returns she looks different. She is bigger. I remember this kind of bigger. She smiles when she sees me. Lovingly she strokes my golden mane. She whispers, “You’re still my favorite toy.”

I’m moved out of the attic back to my room of toys. It looks a little different now. There’s a crib where the bed used to be and the toys seem simpler. I love the colors. The little girl who is not little anymore comes in every day. She folds tiny clothes. Sometimes she rearranges the animals on the shelf. She doesn’t play with me but I enjoy seeing her more. She is beautiful and happy.

One day when the girl comes she is holding a bundle. She places the bundle in the crib and smiles over it for some time. As she walks out she rubs my head. 

The bundle grows. He pulls up onto my legs. Later he toddles around. The woman holds him in front as they sit on the horse and say, “Neigh!”

I am a happy horse.

More children come. More children grow. I have many names, and have many adventures. 

Sometimes I have to wait again. Sometimes I wait in the basement next to ornaments and stored clothes. Sometimes I wait in an attic with dust floating all around me. I even spend time in a storage unit once or twice. 

But I’m always ready for my next child and my next game. The grown ups laugh and talk about the curious carousel horse that has lasted these many years.

“It’s so big! I can’t believe you all still have this. How many generations have played with this horse?”

I don’t get played with much. Planted in the entryway of my newest home, I don’t have to wait in an attic. People ask about where I came from. My owners smile as they show off their favorite toy. My current little girl never gets bigger like the others did. She got taller but never wider… The children don’t come.

But I am a happy horse. I make my little girl smile every day as she passes me. She pats my head.

My little girl moves more slowly now. She stays in bed but gets many visitors. Some are children and I’m excited to see their little faces light up. However the grown ups don’t let them touch me. 

Soon my little girl is carried away. Something seems wrong. Where are they taking her? I am alone again. 

They come to get me later. I am carried away like my little girl was. But I don’t know where they are taking me. Maybe they will take me to her.

I am not taken to my little girl. I have a sense she is gone like many left before her. 

My new home is very bright. I see toys all around but they aren’t on the floor or on a bed. Many have their own glass rooms. I have my own glass room. 

The children come! They smile and push their little noses to the glass. 

“The Carousel Horse is one of our favorites here at the toy museum…” I hear from the woman with a tight bun and pencil skirt. 

Favorite! I am a favorite. The children don’t play with me but I make them happy. I am a happy horse.