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.