A Noble Steed

A noble steed stands regally in my living room. He is truly regal in every sense of the word because he is: honest, he doesn’t claim to be more than he is, an humble, hand-made rocking horse; dignified, no matter what indignities he endures, the teeth of a mettlesome puppy, a youngster who decides he doesn’t need a bridle or all that mane; resolute, in that he has one purpose and that is to rock the youngster who climbs upon his back for a ride.

Race horses can trace their ancestry back many generations. This little horse (his name is Texas) has a most interesting background but his true origin is a bit obscure. A dear friend of mine bought him at a garage sale in Oklahoma when my granddaughter Sara was very small. Her little legs were too short to reach the platform so my brother-in-law Ray said he could put on an additional footrest especially designed for short legs. Ray lived in Texas and we lived in Oklahoma, so the pony was loaded up and went with us when we visited Helen and Ray. We left him in Texas and journeyed back home. A long time passed before the finished footrest and our plans for another Texas trip meshed but finally, we were able to return with the augmented rocking horse. Only thing was, Sara’s legs would now reach the platform unaided.  She no longer needed the booster footrest. But she still loved that horse and every time she climbed on him, she said she was going to take a ride to Texas. She loved the Lone Star State too.

Finally, Sara outgrew the horse named Texas and it was her brother Nathan’s turn to ride him. So, Nathan enjoyed him for a while. Another neat thing about Texas, besides his obvious nobility is that he entertains and opens childish minds to imaginations without the aid of electricity, batteries, buttons, or on and off switches. All is needed is one rocking horse and one child. The rest takes care of itself.

Now back to the origins of our horse with the Lone Star name.  My guess is that some dad or granddad put him together at home using a pattern, saw, nails and glue. As for his mane and tail–well, it could be that somewhere at one time there was a mop minus its head. So Texas stands silently, always ready to go, alert and eager for a new adventure. He may not be beautiful, shiny, big or costly but he is a dear little horse because at one time he held my grandchildren. And now he holds a whole bunch of memories.