I didn’t expect this. The floodgates opened and the images rushed at me. How many times did dad make us sit in the old-fashioned fire engine or on the milk truck in front of the Carnation cafe? Years later, we put our daughters in those same places, recreating the images that I carried in my heart. I watched families line Main Street, waiting for the next parade, and I could almost see mom with her fashionable white framed sunglasses holding a bag of popcorn in her lap. All day, each step brought a memory. I couldn’t stop them. It was a lovely day, with new memories to add to the storehouse. When I left the park, I knew that I would need to sit with the flood that had washed over me all day, sit, ponder, and eventually, write.