It’s officially the holiday season. I can say that because I’m at my parents’ house, basking in the glow of too much cleaning (for tomorrow’s festivities) and too many supermarket runs (for tomorrow’s festivities) and too many people pinching my cheeks (for being so darn cute).
Holidays Equal Horses
The holiday season always brings a flood of childhood memories, which typically start as I’m washing down stale, unsalted peanuts with 3.5 ounces of watered-down Diet Coke that the stewardess politically-correct flight attendant handed me on her its way down the aisle. For most people, memories like these involve winters spent reading and playing games and watching electronic trains go round and round as the fires roar and mommies bring refills of hot chocolate and sugar cookies. Or for those in better climates, those days are spent walking on beaches and putting on long-sleeved shirts and hoping for a dip in the pool before the sun sets.
Sure, I have some of those memories, fires in- and out-of-hearths included. But my childhood memories, the ones that I think of when I think of home, all involve horses. Primarily one horse, if I’m being honest, so we’ll just talk about him for a moment.
He was tall and handsome. He had a chestnut coat and big, beady, black eyes. His hooves were white, as was the stripe running down his face. He was beautiful. I don’t remember his name. I’d like to say it was Charlie or Blaze or Ambrosia or something very horse-like. But knowing me, I named him Horse and moved on with my day.
Winter for me meant afternoons spent with Horse. We had some great adventures; they involved beating my own record at lapping the track, the supermarket, and just about anything that could be circled in one way or another. We got along famously. I loved him so much, and I know he loved me right back. Horse turned evil to good and nightmares to dreams and comforted my biggest fears. He was my BFF.
When you’re spending time with your loved ones this holiday season, cherish the moments. Remember your childhood memories. And know that me and my 7-inch tall, plastic Horse wish you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving.