When dad went on business trips all over the country, he'd bring me back all sorts of trinkets. Sometimes, you could tell he just picked up whatever he could find in between work and the hotel gift shop---an after-thought present for his 'favorite' child. Other times, I knew that he went searching the streets for something he thought would make me smile, even if that meant forgoing sleep.
I loved all these things he brought home to me; the charms, the glass candies, the snow globes. I hoarded it all in a little colored box under my bed for many years and only later in life did I trash them out of spite. This, I regret.
I don't know how we've gotten here to this very moment where none of us speak of what is important. If I could turn back time to demystify the misunderstandings of my life crossing yours, I would. But I can't. Because we've forgotten that I was the little girl who sat atop your shoulders to see the world for the very first time.