Thursday, December 10, 2009


Maybe it was the day and age. I'm not sure. Maybe when I opened a Christmas gift from my husband finding a food processor, was also a holdover from another day and age. But there I sat with Dad and a pile of red towels.

Never did I see our parents exchange gifts for any occasion. On this Christmas, Mom must have asked for red towels, otherwise, I'm sure Dad would not have known. Bath towels, hand towels, wash cloths all matching and waiting to be wrapped. Mom was gone when Dad and I sat before the gifts, paper and tape.

I sat in the middle of the living room when Dad pulled out the towels. He probably had been hiding them in the barn. Along with the towels came a new, enameled canning pot along with a new roasting pan. He had the great idea of making this present fun for Mom. We rolled towels packing them into the pans then placed the pans into boxes. Dad held the paper while I taped. It was an odd time for my father and I. Never had we done anything like this, preparing something special for Mom. Perhaps that is why it has lingered in my overcrowded brain.

We sat around the tree Christmas morning. I could hardly wait for Dad to bring in his packages. Mom was totally surprised to receive these gifts from Dad. Boxes opened, oooohs and aaaaahs over the new pans and delight at the discovery of new towels.

I can’t say that I was that excited about my food processor. But we didn’t have much on the farm. Pretty new towels were a luxury. Mother’s love of red was satisfied in her new towels. Dad was a bit more admired by his little girl. And I later in life bought a red sofa.

Memories just might come in a canning pot or in the color red. Memories might come in the shape of a gift from a Dad to a Mother. Whatever we set before a child is a lesson. Mine came in the color red.

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