My daughter, then only two, fell in love with it the moment we arrived at our stand at the yearly neighbourhood flea market. The two teenaged sisters wanted 25 bucks for it. They refused to bargain but did let her ride it all afternoon. They thought that would showcase it’s worth. Ragged and leaning, we doubted it would make it through the next hour under our full-bodied rambunctious girl hell bent on making it ride off its rocker. By five we were all tired and overheated. It was closing time and all items not sold had to get loaded back into cars a good hike away. On the girls’ third trip back I dipped into my pockets telling them they could have whatever was in them in exchange for the horse (and I’d take the toddler back too). Deal closed, I handed them four bucks and carried horse and rider off. Two moves, three garage sales and twelve years later, it stays silent when she pinches its ears, but still holds her weight (and jackets, bags, dirty socks anything else that doesn’t slip onto the floor).

daily post photo challenge: beloved

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