Infinity

Chapter 3

    I was contently sitting in the living room on my computer, reluctantly trying to get some work done, when I heard the sound of a container fall to the floor. She knocked the laundry detergent off of the washing machine. I wasn't surprised at all. She dropped her head down to examine what it was, obviously curious as to what that strange looking object possessed. She was terrorizing my apartment ever since she started to walk around properly. Usually parents are happy and over-joyed when their children accomplish the mile stone of taking their first few steps. I, on the other hand, only experienced my heart falling into my stomach. I walked over, picked it up, and returned it to its home back on the washing machine. I looked down at her and she flicked her little tail back and forth, like she was annoyed with the fact that I liked things in order and clean, not messy and cluttered like she did.

"Last I saw, horses lived in barns, not apartments. I wouldn't push your luck." I said while massaging her neck. She turned her head to the side, indicating she enjoyed the pleasure my hands were giving her. She unsteadily walked up to me and lovingly rubbed the scratchy tip of her nose side to side against my shirt. She was three and a half months old at the time. She grew quite a bit from the day I brought her home, but not that much. She was still an apartment sized horse. I could already tell she was going to be shorter, but that's okay. I'm exactly five feet tall, so I couldn't judge.

    I dodged her over-sized pink ball and made my way into the kitchen to prepare myself another tedious meal. Before I could even open the fridge, she was already standing next to me, waiting for her nightly oatmeal cream pie. I trudged away from the fridge, came to the cabinet above the stove, and retrieved the box of her most beloved treats. Her ears flew forward at the sound of the crinkling wrapper, and she began to toss her head up and down. When I finally managed to free the pie from its prison, I held it out in front of me and she gobbled it up like she had never eaten before. She chewed it like a how a dog eats peanut butter. Her lips were smacking together and making the biggest riot. By the time she was finished, she raised her upper lip and threw her head up. That always made me chuckle.

    Seeing that she was clearly going to die of starvation, I got out a pot and poured some milk in it. I heated my old, rusty stove, and set it on there to heat up. When it was heated, I set it on the floor for her to drink. She lowered her head and her legs slid all the way out in front of her. She somehow managed to drink it with ease, though. I once again attempted to return to my worn, white fridge and grab the frozen lasagna. When the oven was preheated, I slid it in. When it was done, I quietly served myself a reasonable sized portion.

With intentions of having a normal, peaceful meal, I set my place and got comfortable in my chair. But, I soon learned that doing anything normal was impossible with that filly. Half way through my meal, I heard something loud enough to wear straight through the floor, like a cat running in place on a cartoon. Practically choking on my food, I spun my head to the direction of the sound and saw her running toward me like a bullet. Her heels were up in the air and her head was all the way down to the floor, her nose nearly brushing the ground. Before I could even think of how to handle this impending disaster, I was already making my way to the floor. She hit my chair on her way past me. The force of the side of my face against the rug was not so pleasant. It was only when I got up is when I saw the true damage that had been done. Two legs from the chair had been cracked clean off, the back of the chair had a huge crack through it, and the leg of the table looked like it was the victim of a lion. I then saw that the floor had been badly scratched from the front door, through the kitchen, around the "L" shape of the counter, to the very spot I was standing. I was in shock. I didn't know what to think or say. I turned around to look her in the eye. She stood there like an innocent little flower. Her tail was still, her breathing steady. Her eyes were soft. All I could do at that moment was encourage her innocence and beauty by kneeling in front of her and embracing her in my arms. I didn't forgive her for what she did, but that whole catastrophe made me realize that she hadn't been stabbed with the wickedness of the world that we live in. She was innocent, and that innocence needed to be cherished. That day showed us that she had outgrown that chapter in her life, that she was ready for the next, and that's when it all began.