"Grits and a Rocking Horse"

By Christine Stoddard

Winter sunlight slipped between the blinds and onto the little girl's fat pillow. Carlawoke up that shimmering morning to discover a bowl of grits on the edge of hernightstand. A grin quickly won over her face. She clapped her hands, seized aspoon, and starting shoving steaming heaps into her mouth."Mommy put extra butter, too--just how I like it!" Carla exclaimed in betweenbites. The slightest bulge popped out from her neck each time she swallowed.After she had nearly finished the bowl, Carla leapt out of bed and pulled on hernavy blue jumper. She rolled up her gray socks, combed her hair, and smiled ather reflection in the mirror. Her hazel eyes shone back at her.

"Carla! Wake up!" Her mother's voice echoed up the staircase.

"I'm already up, Mommy," Carla shouted.

"Good. Did you eat your breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"Don't forget to brush your teeth."

Carla promised to brush them. She heard no more of her mother's voice as shepuffed out the sleeves of her school uniform. They smelled of starch. Carlacontinued primping herself, adjusting stray strands of hair and rubbing on herfavorite berry lip balm. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she turned awayfrom her dresser and beamed. The bathroom lied only a few steps outside herbedroom, but she felt rushed nonetheless. Before leaving, though, Carla blew akiss at the rocking horse teetering in the shadow cast by her bookshelf.

The rocking horse, black with a white mane, blew a kiss back.

Carla jumped, skirt waving. "Did you just--"

"I did, Carla," the rocking horse replied. "I blew a kiss at you."

"No!"

"Yes. That's the first bit of love you've shone me in a while, after all. I had torespond. I got excited."

"What do you mean? I brushed your tail last week, Horse."

"That's only because your mommy complained that it was tangled."

"No," Carla said, stamping her foot, "I noticed it was tangled before she did."

"But think--why did it get tangled in the first place?"

The little girl blushed so hard a faint rosy glow tinted her white blouse. "Because Ikicked you over while playing tea party with cousin Austin. He called you stupidand I didn't want him to make fun of me so I called you stupid, too."

The horse nodded. "Exactly. And you just left me there, didn't you? I just stayedin that dusty corner for a month before you finally noticed. I bet you didn't missme once."

Carla's gaze dropped down to the floor. She gulped. "I missed you once, Horse.When I saw another rocking horse at the toy store on Main Street. It was pinkand baby blue, but I didn't like it as much as I like you. Honest. I thought that onelooked too much like a piece of candy."

"Hmph," the horse said, "That's because it did. I'm a much more sensible color.After all, everything matches black."

"You're right," Carla whispered, "You are a sensible color."She crouched down and began stroking the horse's face very gently. The horsefelt warm, not at all like dead wood, beneath her chubby hand. Its eyes evenseemed to squint a bit, as if it enjoyed her soft touches. The little girl's mindwandered to memories of the horse, memories of days when she was evenyounger and played with the horse everyday. In those times, she had pretendedto be everything from a princess to a Southern belle to a pioneer to a farmer to acowgirl to a soldier. Sometimes she even pretended that the horse was a insteadcar, and mimicked engine sounds by blowing air rapidly through her lips.

"I remember those times, too," the horse murmured.

Carla immediately stopped stroking the horse. "How did you know what I wasthinking?"

"You leave a small part of yourself every time you get into the saddle, Carla."

Carla's smooth forehead crumpled into the faintest of wrinkles. She withdrew herhand from the horse and examined the toy for a moment. Pennies filled in for itseyes. Tiny silk roses stuck out from its knotted mane, as if peeping out from apile of snow. A red velveteen saddle clung to its back and a ruby ribbondecorated its sweeping tail. Burgundy hearts splashed its legs."Feed me some grits," the horse suddenly commanded.

Carla laughed. "I don't have much left."

"Then you shouldn't mind feeding me the last bit."

"No," Carla giggled, "Not at all. I'm full, anyway."

The little girl walked over to her nightstand and grabbed the bowl of grits withboth hands. Delicately, she placed the spoon in the horse's mouth. The horsepulled the grits onto its tongue, then opened his mouth for another bite. Carlagazed at the horse's expectant expression for a second before serving it moregrits. Somehow its face reminded her of her mother's.

No longer keeping track of how many helpings she had fed the horse, Carlaimagined herself sitting on its plush saddle. Wind rustled her flowing gown andloosely braided hair. A garland of white flowers adorned the crown of her head.Glass slippers topped her fleshy feet. The scents of daisies and daffodilssurrounded her. Passionately, the horse galloped toward the sun as it descendedbehind dark purple mountains. Carla felt breathless, as if what lurked in thosemountains thrilled her more than anything she had ever known.Without warning, the girl's bedroom door suddenly flung open.

"Carla."

Carla dropped the spoon with a

clank

nd looked up. A couple grits splattered onthe floor. It was Carla's mother, tense and stern.

"I've been calling you."

"I'm sorry. I thought..."

"You have to be at school in fifteen minutes, honey. What happened? You'reusually so good about--"