Writing Challenge #3 Holiday memories

_Lynn_

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Dec 12, 2006
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What was your favorite part of the holiday when you were younger? Decorating the tree? Seeing the candies and cookies lined up on the counter to cool? Shaking the gaily wrapped packages? Opening your presents? Visiting with family? The Christmas music?

Describe a memory that makes you smile yet today.
 
The snow had been coming down heavy for two days now, blanketing everything in a soft, white shroud. Christmas break had just started and every kid was looking at the snow with eagerness. I was one of the eager 9 year old ones myself, having just waxed my toboggan and buffing it to a high gloss, like the TV show said I should.
I pulled on my one-piece snowsuit and tucked the long ends of my scarf down the front before doing the zipper up. With just my eyes being bared to the cold, I struck out into the virgin snow, only to find it was waist deep and too hard to walk in.
After watching my futile attempts at trying to make some distance, my Dad came and rescued me from the frozen wastelands that lay at the end of my driveway. Seeing my disappointment, he handed me the snow shovel and said I should make a path to get out to the open road, where I could walk easier.
I shovelled for over an hour before my Dad came back out and said "More snow on the way."
I looked at the pitiful amount I had done and started to cry, knowing I wouldn't get to go tobogganing. Coming back inside and stripping out of the suit, scarf, mitts toque and boots, I watched as the large, fluffy flakes began to fall.
After three more hours of unsurpassed snowfall, All that I had done was for naught and the expanse of white was once again pristine in its splendor.
I remember the comforting hand on my shoulder, as my Dad stood beside me and looked at it all. I turned my face up to his and saw the gleam of happiness in them. Turning me away from the window, and keeping his arm around me, he took me to the basement and had me close my eyes when I reached the bottom step.
Guiding me, he stopped and I knew he turned on a light, from the sound of the chain rasping in the socket.
"Open your eyes, son." Was all he said, as he placed both his hands on my shoulders.
I opened them and looked down at an entire racecourse of slot-car track built on a sheet of plywood and decorated with buildings and pit areas as well as trees and a grandstand.
"Merry Christmas son, your Mom and I thought you'd like this now, since you can't get out on your toboggan."
It was the first time I remember telling my Dad I loved him and my Dad echoing my words back. I never felt closer to him in my life, except when his first grandson was born and I laid him in his arms for the first time and saw the tears in his eyes as he looked down at him and then back at me.
 
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