Painted Pony

My life started before I knew it began. Was I...

A tree?
A log?
An old piece of furniture?

I didn't know and honestly it doesn't matter. I am what I am: A painted pony.

Father loved me from the day he made me. I wasn't always a painted pony, though. I remember when his gentle hands guided the blade along my back, each curvature taking part of me away, yet making me whole. Every moment I felt more and more like something else.

Could I be a wooden lynx, strong and quick? I felt no wood shavings for paws.
Could I be a wooden soldier, with a rifle standing tall? I didn't get taller.

Every day I changed more and more. My head became sculpeted and I had a nose with two pointed ears. I could hear the world now. I felt him start to make my nose, wide and elongated. Was I a horse? I was a horse! He painted my hoves and filled my nostrils with black. I felt an urge to snort and clomp. I couldn't have been happier. He made my mane  of white and brown yarn, "... the most beautiful yarn in the world!" as my father said. If I would have smiled, I would have. ( He didn't paint me a smile, sadly )

I wondered what the world was like. I could hear laughter, talking, wind. I could feel the carving, the gentle touch as Father worked. But I could not see, as my eyes were not made. I longed to look upon Father. To show him how happy I was that he created me. But that day wasn't today. Father heaved a sigh and I heard his chair creak, he left. I stayed there patiently and waited for him to return later.

I don't know how to measure time, but I knew it was a while. His shop door rang as it unlocked and opened. He's BACK! He came back for me! I was eager to be finished, so I clomped my hooves loudly... Or, I would have, if I could have. I waited to feel Fathers' knife and hands on me.

Nothing.

What felt like forever soon passed.

Nothing.

The bell rang and the air became still. Father left again. That was O.K. He'd be back later or tomorrow (whatever that was.) Eventually I felt warmth on my back, which I found out meant that daytime was here which also meant it was already tomorrow! Father! He'll be back to finish me in no time! I often imagined what the world was like, I heard laughter often, my most favorite sound. I wanted to see Father's face most though and to show him how much I loved him.

Hours passed. He left. He returned. Night fell. I wasn't worried. He left.

Soon the hours turned to days, and I waited for him still, hoping I was looking perfect. It's every toys dream to be perfect and I knew that whatever Father was planning must be great for me. He always made me feel loved when I was in his hands.

Days turned into longer days. I felt dust start to accumulate on my frame. I wanted to sneeze. Hopefully Father would come and dust me off. I missed his touch and metal carving knife. Did he foreget I was even there?