Welcome to my horse collection.  This was a very big deal when I was a kid.  These were souvenirs from trips and Christmas and birthday gifts.  I loved them.  I could stand in front of the display in any tacky Tennessee roadside gift shop and be totally entranced.  I played with them endlessly.  They had names and histories and families.

I unpacked them last week.  I unwrapped each precious horse and set it on the kitchen island to admire.  Banjo Man didn’t know what to say.  I suspect he was afraid I was going to display them on the fireplace mantel.   They’d been packed for about fifty years, maybe more.  I always thought I’d have granddaughters who would want to play with them.

So far that isn’t happening.

So I ask you, what do I do with them?  Do I wait a few more years for that granddaughter to appear?  Do I donate them to charity?  Sell them on ebay?  Put them back in their box and tuck them away?

I am not ready to part with them.

Which I am embarrassed to admit.

Just forget you read this.