My mom used to hide Christmas gifts in the closet under the stairs. I passed by that door every day as I went up to my bedroom.
I never gave a thought to what was inside until one Christmas decades ago I just had to see if I was getting the gift I hoped for.
As it turns out, I was.
The gift was a Breyer horse. Two, actually, because the Clydesdale mare and her foal were a set. They each came with fleece blankets that could be taken on and off.
I spied the horses at the local Coast-to-Coast store and immediately fell in love. I already had several of the Breyer models, having received the first in 1973 when I was 10.
The Clydesdales, however, continued to represent my dream of owning my own horse.
I recently rediscovered them in a plastic tub while cleaning the basement, and the sight of them reminded me of my neighbor’s draft horses.
When I was a young girl, I recalled seeing my neighbor as he walked past our farm on his way to feed his own large animals.
One day I joined him with a plastic bread bag stuffed with grass hay. I fell in love with one of his fillies and named her “Brown Sugar.”
I dreamed Brown Sugar would come home with me and I would become her owner. My dreams didn’t come true that year.
Until I received a real horse, those plastic Breyer models became substitutes for my dreams, and I spent hours playing with those toys.
I spent many summers under the shade of the large trees in our front yard, constructing pens and pastures out of twigs.
Fast forward to 2021 and that Breyer collection of more than 50 horses are slowly being “rehomed” to my grandchildren.
The discovery of the Clydesdale mare and foal brought instant thoughts to the horses’ new owner.
My 2-year-old grandson, Logan, is not a horse lover like his sister. He prefers cows to equines except for one horse, the “Daddy” Clydesdale.
This week he’ll receive the “Mommy” and “Baby” to complete the family.
I imagine the large grin on his face, his fast chatter of having a complete horse family, and the excitement of having a toy his sister will covet.
Merry Christmas, Logan. I hope the gift brings you hours of (horse)play and allows your imagination to soar as mine did all those years ago.