I
think one of my sweetest memories of my daddy was when he took me out
for snowy night-time sleigh rides—just the two of us!
He
bundled me up like a little papoose, tucked a hot-water bottle by my
feet and covered me with a cozy, soft blanket! As we sailed along, he
told me stories of the 'olden' days when he was a little boy. His
daddy would pull him
in a sleigh through the night snow, all the while keeping him, as he
expressed it, "snug as a bug in a rug"; but instead of a
hot-water bottle, it was a towel-wrapped brick which
had been lovingly heated in their
fireplace!
Although
daddy sang to me all the time, those special sleigh-ride serenades
became forever beautifully etched in my heart. Even now when I am
very still and quiet and I close my eyes tightly, I can feel his
wonderful winter serenades cocooning my soul. I remember "Oh My
Papa", "My Darling Clementine" and "A Bicycle
Built for Two". Even more glorious than the hymns he sang, were
his Christmastime renditions of all my favourite carols! But the most
fun we shared was when he invented new songs, about “us” and
“fun” and “love” and “happiness” and “forever”...as
we carved our memories along the snow-packed trails.
In
between songs, our world was so silent and still: no cars, no people,
just the "crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch" of daddy's big,
black rubber boots, unlatched and flapping as they rhythmically
pressed their patterns in the new snow. So bundled up I couldn't
move, I’d just lean way back in my sleigh and try to dangle my arms
over the sides. With daddy as My Protector, I was fearless, even when
the passing snow 'monsters', flanking each drive-way, reached out to
grab my wooly, double-mittened hands.
The
tree limbs bowed so painfully under their crisply sparkling white
armour, that every now and then a loud crack announced their
inevitable capitulation. While picture windows poured their golden
yellow warmth into the night air, monstrous icicle daggers, filled
with glinting starlight, warned of danger for any who ventured too
near. Under our black-navy-blue velvet sky, spackled with the magic
dancing glint of faraway worlds, I watched in amazement as moon-rays
joined partners in a silent waltz, in step with my daddy's boots.
While illuminating our path, in tandem step, they mirrored our every
turn.
Soft
snowflakes settled on my nose and cheeks, lengthened my eyelashes and
danced an icy fandango on my tongue.
"Where
do the all these snowflakes come from daddy?"
After
a deeply pensive moment came my daddy’s own, very special reply:
"These
are our special snowflakes, Bunny and they come from the moon—they
float all the way down from the moon."
Why
of course they do and they are too! Certainly he was right! I should
have known that these weren't ordinary snowflakes! Daddy said, and my
daddy never lied:
"Bunny
dear, these are our own very special, mystical, Magical Moonflakes!"
Although
I always hoped those enchanted wintry sails through the Moonflakes
would go on forever into the infinite night, our journeys
always ended at our front door where "her" terrifyingly
secretive, depraved and venomous anger halted the serenades. With a
hate-filled glare, she instantly melted, (correction, vaporized),
our delightfully fleeting moments, vanishing them just like the
breath from the depth of our souls...into the endlessly dark and
crackling night air.
With
the greatest anticipation, and a secret little prayer of hope, I
always begged:
"Daddy...will
there be Magical Moonflakes for us tomorrow night?"
...and
he always assured me with just the tiniest promise:
"We’ll
see, Bunny, we’ll see..."
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