Yes, I know that this isn’t Friday. There isn’t anything so impaired about my mental faculties that I can’t tell the days apart anymore. Yet. I simply ran out of time to post yesterday. Technically, however, I thought of this yesterday, so it still counts.
This is another photograph from my aunt’s artsy black and white period, although obviously a little earlier than the Mickey Mouse Ears photo.
This is me with my rocking horse, which, incidentally, my artsy photographer aunt made. I love my artsy aunt. And I loved this little horsie. Loved him so much that one of my earliest memories is of me dragging him across the hall from my room into my parents’ room and locking the door when I left. I wanted him to be safe. Safe from what, I’m not sure. Probably safe from my dad’s irritation when he realized that I had locked their door to protect a wooden pony. Thank goodness for skeleton keys, eh?
My little rocking horse still exists. He made a circuitous path through our family after I outgrew him, spending some time with one of my cousins before finally making his way back to his maker. He now resides in my aunt’s attic. His rockers are a little worse for the wear, having been chewed by the various dogs that have completed our packs over the years. I sometimes have a thought that I’d like to have his head mounted and hung on my wall. Then I realize how creepy and Godfather-esque that sounds. So I’ll be content with this photograph and my silly memories.