An acquaintance on Google+ this morning mentioned that he was taking his five-year-old on a business trip today. Shivers of good memories came over me.
I grew up in Reno, Nevada, which is about 60 or 70 miles south of Susanville, California. Dad planned a business trip to Susanville. He was selling life insurance to the prison guards at the prison in Susanville. Dad decided to take me along on the trip. It was a gorgeous trip up to Susanville. Snow still lingered on the ground, while sunshine parted the leaves on the trees then rested as tiny sparkles on the snow.
The new camera I'd saved more than a year to purchase was ready to break in. Dad pulled alongside the road, showed me a bright red snow flower blooming smack dab in the middle of a snowbank. I took a picture of it, and somewhere I'm sure that picture still exists.
The prison guards were very sweet to me, and one of them gave me a pair of dice that had been confiscated from a prisoner. I saved those for many years, but I think they finally made their way into a kid's board game that was missing dice.
I don't know why Dad decided to take me on that trip, but I'm so grateful for those memories. To a child, there's nothing in the world like having a special day with a parent -- just one on one.