What Will My Children Remember?

An apple juice box was clutched in my five-year-old hand while the red plastic racecar zoomed across the living room floor.

My dad and I had been playing with the set of remote-controlled racecars all afternoon, and my little heart was full to the brim with joy.

It’s been thirty years since then, and that memory is still fastened to my heart. My parents hadn’t had much money to spend that Christmas, only able to afford that one set of plastic cars and a case of my favorite juice.

When they look back to that year, they probably feel a measure of sadness, wishing they could have given more. But, for me, sprawling out on the floor competing against my dad for the fastest racecar with sticky apple juice on my face—it is one of my most cherished memories.


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