Sledding Down Memory Lane

It was the Friday before my birthday. Momma, Daddy and I were out and about, when I drove passed an antique store. "I want to stop and look around there." Daddy said. I turned around and headed back. When I stepped through the door I saw a beautiful antique sleigh. It was all wood with a curved back to keep you from falling out. It had a handle that would have been used to pull it back up the hill. The red paint was worn thin from the endless hours of playing in the snow. I expressed my love for it as I have for many antiques I see and walked on. "I'm going to go look at the old tools," Daddy said, and went on his way. Momma and I began walk the isles looking for treasures. I feel that memory lanes would be a more fitting term as each row and booth were a box full of memories waiting to be reopened. Every time we go to an antique store something like this will happen. "Oh Phyllis," Momma will cry out. "Come and look at this." She will point to something that reminds her of growing up years. "Do you know what that is?" She will ask me. Then the story will begin. Each item is a bit of a history lesson taught by my parents. You can see in their eyes and hear in their voices, that they are reliving a moment in time. I relish in these times with them. I get to know what has shaped them into who they are and to why they think they way they do. After a couple of hours of wandering it was time to come back to the present day and we walked to the door. "Wait!" Daddy calls to me. I look back and he is pointing at the sleigh. "You are forgetting your birthday present," He said with a mischievous grin.  I squealed with delight and had a hard time holding back the tears. 

Every Christmas from now on, daddy’s sleigh will be pulled out of my memory box and I will relive this story for the rest of my days. The funny thing is that the sleigh will have nothing to do with the way I have been shaped, but daddy will have everything to do with it.