Three inches in size and dark gray in color, a small figurine of a rhinoceros was my
prized possession during my infancy. My sister had used it for a project she had in
school, and when she finally got her grade back the whole diorama of African wildlife
was exiled to the closet right outside of my bedroom. This exodus just happened to
coincide with my discovery that I could open doors if I climbed on enough furniture, and
I quickly gained access to a whole world of toys that I had never seen before. At this
time, my parents didn’t allow me to have any toys small enough for me to choke on, as I
had a habit of putting anything and everything that I could get my hands on into my
mouth. This closet just happened to be filled to the brim with things I could suffocate on,
but only one object caught my attention. In hindsight, it was really quite a poor depiction
of a rhino, looking more similar to a pointy cow than its actual real life counterpart, but to
me it was the coolest thing I had laid my little eyes on. There was nothing I wanted to do
more than show it off to anyone who would listen, but I quickly realised I was confined
to secrecy if I wanted to keep the toy. If I showed my parents it would get taken away
immediately due to the danger it posed to my airways. I had more or less stolen it from
my sister, and she was sure to throw a fit if she discovered I had taken it without her
permission. I couldn’t even show my Great Grandma, as I was already in hot water from
when I had turned her bedroom into a battlefield for my Godzilla action figure and hundreds of little green army men (which were suspiciously never seen again). Just like
that, I was turned into an outlaw, armed with nothing but my toy rhino by my side. It was
me and him against the world.
After what felt like an eternity of living the lifestyle of a criminal, my mom
walked into my room and told me and my sister that we were expecting a guest later that
day. It was my Aunt Val, a tall, intimidating woman that seemed to have a general
distaste for me at the time. However none of this seemed to matter to me at the time, and
all I could think of was the fact that I finally had someone to play show and tell with.
I stood in the living room, rhino in hand, waiting anxiously for my aunt’s arrival.
However after waiting for quite some time (an egregious 5 minutes), out of what I
assume was either impatience or an abundance of caution, I decided that I needed to put
the toy down somewhere until she came. The living room table? My room? The desk?
None of these options seemed viable at the time, until suddenly all of the brain damage I
had gotten from repeatedly hitting my head into the glass table in the kitchen caught up
with me at once, and I decided that the correct- nay, only place I could store my
contraband was the refrigerator. Yes, the refrigerator everyone in the house not only had
access to, but frequently visited throughout the day. The very same refrigerator that I
could only see the top shelf of due to my less than impressive height. Once again, none of
this mattered. I had made up my mind. I placed the rhino into the fridge and went about
my day until I heard a familiar chime. Ding dong. It was time. I hastily flew down the
stairs, and turned the corner to find my mom at the door with Aunt Val. I ran to the
doorway and managed to squeak out an exasperated and likely unintelligible, “Wait here!
I have something to show you!” before spinning around and doing a mad dash for the
kitchen. I swung the fridge door open with an intensity Thor himself would envy. After
scanning the shelf multiple times over, I finally spotted my toy, toppled onto its side and
pushed behind a bag of vegetables. I grabbed it, turned around, and prepared myself for
what would have to be the greatest athletic feat of my very short life at the time. Despite
its diminutive size the toy barely fit into my tiny hands, and I held it against my chest
with all of the strength I could muster as I ran to the door.
By the time I reached the door she was gone. I stood at the doorway watching her
car pull out of the driveway as my mom began to lecture me on how rude it was to
interrupt someone’s conversation. I stood there, rhino in hand, disheartened and in
disbelief. How could it be that I went through all that trouble for her and she couldn’t
even give me the time of day? In hindsight this is no Greek tragedy, but at the time it was
the single most impactful moment of my life.
I slowly sauntered up the staircase and went into my room, placing the small, gray
rhinoceros toy on my desk, out in the open for anyone to see.
No one ever noticed.