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Today was my dad’s birthday. Born in 1902, Horace Wilson had a soft spot for children. When I went shopping with my mother, I could choose one item—usually a small Golden Book. Dad let me pick two. Sometimes we stopped at Woolworth’s, where I studied the candy behind the glass before deciding what I wanted. As I grew older, I helped him on the farm, guiding the workhorses while he pitched hay onto the wagon. I wish I had photos of us working together. He used a tractor for many jobs, but my favorite memory is of him hitching my sled to it and pulling me across the snowy fields. I wish my children had known him. He adored his grandchildren and loved holding Sara and Christina before he passed away at 76. In A Gift Forever, first published as The Christmas of 1957, I gave him the ending he deserved in real life. Thank you, God, for all the years I was blessed to have my dad. So many years have passed, but my dad is still in my heart.
