Until the end of your horn grows back
When I was in grade school my parents gave me this little book that contained a poem. It later became my favorite, I would read it again and again, absorbing the artsy font and adorable illustrations, trying to grasp its meaning.
This, is what I am feeling now.
***
The Unicorn
By Marivi Soliven
Once there was a little boy
And of the many toys
his most favorite one
was a pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet unicorn.
She had no horn
for it had been worn
away with years of
cuddling in bed with
the little boy.
He would snuggle under
his blanket and say,
"I will love you until
the end of your horn
grows back."
And to make sure that
it never did,
to make sure that he
would never have to
stop loving her,
he would bury his face
into her forehead
and kiss the tip
of her flattened brow.
The odd thing was,
as time passed
and the little boy
grew bigger,
he grew more and more
ashamed of loving his
pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet
hornless unicorn.
He came to believe
that there was little need
for softness and peace
and cuddling late at night
with an old stuffed toy.
The little boy
grew up.
And he learned about
Serious Things.
Like School and
Careers and
Making Money.
Lots of Money.
And as he busied himself
with the serious business
of growing up,
he spent less and less time
with his pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet
hornless unicorn.
He would come home and say
grown-up things like,
"Oh, I've had a Hard Day
but then Life is Hard.
I have no time
to cuddle in bed.
I need my rest."
And so it went.
Stuck inside the innermost corner
of the boy's toy closet
the pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet
hornless unicorn
felt lost and alone.
She sat inside
through many a night
listening to him
dream dreams of making money
to help him live his Hard Life.
And after many nights of this
she thought:
Why should he want a soft
old pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet
hornless unicorn?
After all, he's said often enough
that Life Is Tough
He's had enough of
cuddling from me.
So the unicorn thought of
growing up too.
She decided to grow
a grown-up unicorn horn.
Each night, as
the little-boy-grown-up
dreamt his money dreams
the unicorn concentrated
on growing her horn.
And as time passed,
the hollow in her brow
later levelled out
later grew a lump,
later grew a point,
still later pointed out
until it had become
a hard and pointed horn.
The velvet unicorn
was proud.
So she said aloud
to the boy
through the closet door
one night:
"it's all right
to let me out tonight.
Little boy,
for I've grown a horn
as hard as your
own Hard Life.
The boy was surprised
to hear his unicorn speak.
She had always been so soft and meek.
But he opened the closet door anyway
and was surprised to see
his pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet friend
waving a long hard
large white horn.
The horn was too long
to let him cuddle her close.
it was far too hard
to nuzzle his nose against.
He stared at the horn
and the unicorn
soon realized that the stare
was not a happy one.
He had grown too old
to love an old toy-
and she had grown too hard
to be loved by the little boy
still inside of him.
Ever so slowly
her hard white horn
began to shrink.
Down to a lump,
down to a hollow
and when it was gone
The rest of her followed.
First went her fuzzy ears
and then her dark brown eyes
and soon after, the rest
of her pink-and-purple
polka-dotted velvet body.
And before he knew it
the little-boy-grown-up
had nothing but
the faintest scent
of soft velvet left
to remind him of
his childhood friend.
He never saw her again.
But many many years after,
when the little-boy-grown-up
had a boy of his own,
he would sometimes hear
soft laughter from
his little boy's bed.
And then he could almost swear
that he could hear
his own little boy's voice
whisper to an unseen friend,
"I will love you until the end
of your horn grows back."
And the faintest scent
of soft old velvet
would come wafting
through the night.