The Christmas Cap

December 22, 2014 4:50 PM

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There it was on top of the armoire, quiet in the dust of the years, the bright red newsboy cap that had been my Father's favorite as long as I could remember. Like the tin soldier in Eugene Field's poem Little Boy Blue, "awaiting the touch of a little hand, the smile of a little face," tucked away long ago and then forgotten in the crush of every day needs and the inexorable turning of the years.

Touching it with reverent fingers, I was a child again, the years dissolved, my father's hand in mine, laughing with me in the snow. God's in his heaven, all's right with the world. I felt suddenly buoyed with that astounding sense of loving safety only childhood allows. The safety a wonderful Fathe...

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