There’s a strange magic that toys possess.

I remember after watching A New Hope for the first time, my dad went to his room to rummage through a dusty old box that had been in the corner of his closet since we moved into the house. From it, he handed me an old die-cast scale model of the Millennium Falcon. Much of the paint had rubbed off, the satellite was missing, and the landing struts were broken, but that didn’t temper my excitement at all. I think in the months following that first viewing, I had concocted hundreds of adventures with that toy Falcon in my mind.

As the years went on, my parents helped me add to my toy collection to expand those imaginary campaigns and missions. The Action Fleet toys were a stable of my childhood. I had everything from the X-Wing to an Expanded Universe TIE Defender, but even with all of those additions, the Millennium Falcon my dad gave me was still my most prized possession. Which, of course, explains why I was upset when I lost it during a move.

Fast forward about ten years. I remember having a conversation with my dad shortly after graduating from high school, but I can’t for the life of me remember how the conversation was brought up. In any case, we were talking about that toy he gave me and he mentioned that it had been his growing up. One of his favorites at that. I hadn’t thought about that scale model replica in years and now I felt really bad for having lost it. It was somewhat of a bittersweet realization. My dad had given a single toy that had meant so much to him growing up to me and watched as I went about creating all sorts of imaginary adventures.

Move forward a few more years. It’s the last day of Celebration VI, and I’m wandering the exhibition floor in the waning hours of the convention with Nanci and Tracy of Club Jade. As I look up, I see on a high shelf that very toy I lost, a die-cast scale replica Millennium Falcon with high-impact plastic gun turrets, satellite, and landing gear. I couldn’t quite believe what I was looking at, but what I really couldn’t believe was the price tag. $90, although to be fair it was a vintage toy that was still in the original packaging. I couldn’t justify that price tag.

But then I thought about all the fun I had with it. The fun my dad had with it growing up. The link that was formed when he pulled it out of that dusty old box and gave it to me. I had to buy it, and I’ll be honest. All of those memories rushing back about reduced me to tears as I walked away from the seller, toy in hand.

Dad, you’ll find this sitting on your desk when I get home. Consider it a very belated thank you.