- Essay by Lauren Walton, Grade 8

Monopoly. Who doesn't love the game? But have you ever thought about the game pieces? Or asked yourself, "Now why do I always choose that old top hat?" Probably not. But I did.

I was in the middle of an intense game of Monopoly. I could either use my remaining $200 to buy the B&O Railroad, giving me a close to finished set (I would need only one more, the Pennsylvania Railroad). Or I could save my money and use it in the future for property. As I sat there, weighing my decision, I looked at all of the odd game pieces I could have chosen from. I could have been a speedy car or a powerful ship. Or perhaps a fashionable purse. But no, I chose a dorky and childish little rocking horse, the old fashioned kind children in the '40s played with. Why had I made such a selection? One can only hope I was choosing at random, for if I truly wanted that piece, it would display a certain speck of insanity. Yes, I am insane! I didn't choose at random, I was the first to get my piece! I had chosen that rocking horse! But why?

Perhaps it was because I longed for my childhood again, where I was allowed to cheat in the game of Monopoly. But that wouldn't make much sense, for when I was little I always chose the iron and set up a random business of my own where the other players (my family of course) could pay me to iron their pink, blue, green, and yellow Monopoly cash. So it couldn't be a desire for memories to be woken up and remembered.

Well, I have always loved horses. Maybe I chose the silly rocking horse so I could pretend I was riding all over the ritzy areas of Boardwalk and Park Place, with the wind whipping at my face, and a sense of freedom flowing through my veins. What am I talking about? I hate horses! Well, not hate, as my mother always says, "Hate is a strong word." But ever since that mangy buckskin sent me flying into the cow patties piled up out in the pasture after bucking me straight and hard, I guess I've never cared for them much. The stench took days to scrub off. No, that can't be it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was to connect on a deeper level with my redneck past. After all, I was born in Arkansas. But wait! I don't really care for rednecks at all! I have grown up in Chicago my whole life, and the only time I've even stepped on a farm in my life was when I was seven! I'll never forget the smell.

After much contemplation, I think I finally discovered my motive for selecting the rocking horse! It wasn't because I wanted to connect with my redneck heritage, or that I love horses, or that I longed for my childhood. It was because it is the one piece that I personally took to biting as a baby, and no one has ever trusted me with any other piece since. Oh, the tragedies in life!