The Red Shovel

In the year 1977 in the Northeast there was a blizzard. I do mean a blizzard. I was 4 years old. It's funny, this blizzard is one of my most fond and sharp memories from childhood. I remember the way the trees hung low, heavy with snow. I remember how quiet and white the world seemed. I remember how the cars would roll slowly down the blanketed streets. I also remember my red shovel.
My parents bought me a new, red shovel. How how shiny it was! And just my size!
I loved that shovel. I loved that I could be outside with my Dad and play and have a shovel just like he did.
Eventually, I lost some verve for the shoveling and began to play other games. Like "let's bury the shovel". As fate would have it, one time I buried my shovel and couldn't find it. I was heartbroken and sad. I wanted my shovel back. You know? We NEVER found that shovel! I never saw it again.
I was telling Evelyn this story the other night. I told her how red and shiny my shovel was and how I lost it.  She has been interested in hearing stories form when we were kids lately and she just ate this one up. The drama of the shovel, it's redness, the loss.
I thought it particularly fortuitous then, when later that same evening I was at a store and they had, red, kid sized shovels.
Of course I bought it for her. It was, quite frankly the best four dollars I have ever spent. She was so enthralled to have a shovel like I did when I was a girl. She was so happy to get such an unexpected gift. She was so happy to be able to go out and "help Papa shovel".
That's where they are now, the two of them. They are outside shoveling. This is the second afternoon in a row that they are out there. She loves it. I can hear her talking and laughing and her Papa laughing with her. I can her the little scrapes that are her and her shovel, working hard. I can see the occasional rooster tail of snow as they try to hit each other with the soft powdery stuff.

Even thought his blizzard is no where near the ferocity of the one when I was young.... Even though my shovel was more red and shiny.....I am hoping that she will remember this for a long, long time. I know I will. I know her Papa will.