The Prize

When my son was in 4th grade, he participated in a fund raiser that resulted in a gift for me that I treasure like a bar of  24 karat gold. He and my husband went door to door, and my husband sold some of the books at work, too. In the end, they had sold enough to merit the coveted prize: a small stuffed animal mechanical piggy, they gave to me. It had a battery, and when you turned it on, it would move its snout in and out, and start walking. They were so proud, and what was so touching to me, was that my son wanted not a prize for himself, he wanted me to have the piggy. To this day the piggy sits proudly on my cherry wood dresser in the living room, and my heart  feels warm all over each time I look at it. My son's enthusiasm as he would add up each day the accumulated points to see how close he was to being able to get the piggy, my husband's willingness to become part of the goal and excitement, it was so touching. My son Nicholas has always had very shiny eyes, especially when he gets excited, and I will always remember his smile, his pride and his bright shiny eyes as he gave me the mechanical stuffed toy. He is 20 now, a bright, well spoken, warm and creative and funny guy, towering above me at almost six foot six, even though I am not short at five foot eight. He calls me Little Mama, and is very protective and kind with me. It is strange to realize how time goes by, and wonderful to know the memories we cherish are not tarnished or do not age with time. They are  there for us to retrieve at any moment, any where, one of the many marvels of our brains. And our memories are tied to our hearts, because the ones that are dearest to our heart, are the ones our memory keeps closest to the surface of the treasure chest that  becomes our heart's favorite stories. The heart truly seems to have its own memory, because what does not matter to it, it will forget, but the events, emotions, people, that matter will stay there as fresh as the day they happened. And the piggy will never get old.