Odd how the minds works, and what we choose to remember. When we were children we were split from each other for sometime. I was sent to live with a Aunt. If I close my eyes I can see every room in her house. She never had children and everything was perfect. I know I must have ate and slept but I have no recall of it. She took me shopping once, and I can remember the details of the shop, from the moment I entered the door. We attended church and I remember one Particular day where we stayed for a afternoon church social. It was winter and the holiday season was approaching,. Inside many strangers and each child was given a gift. I can recall the gift down to every detail, it was a box that contained a paper doll, it had magnet clothes that slid on andoff.
It felt so lonely with out my sisters, my eldest sister and I had a very close bond and I can remember glancing out the window as the snow fell and wondering where they were. It was a quiet time and I remember doing a lot of day dreaming.
Most of the time I felt privileged to have had s o many wonderful people cross my path, people who gave to me a exterior view of the world. One woman who stands out in my mind was head of a youth group department. She was tall and lanky or was it I was so petite? I think it was a bit of both she was so tall and I was so little. I can so vividly see the smile on her face and her hair was white, curled and always nicely cared for. She was as graceful as the swan down at the park pond. Her voice was gentle and soft and she spoke lightly never raising it higher. It was a big celebration at the youth group and they were having a doll show, she asked if I was bringing one in. She said you must have a doll? I had this one old baby doll that was passed down from my sisters. None of them liked them, but the doll was perfect it was my imaginary world , someone I could talk to and they listened. The doll had tightly woven brown hair short and tight, green eyes and chubby cheeks.
Several blocks from the youth center, I walked back to the house to get the baby doll. She was dressed in tattered, old baby clothes. I wiped her face and cleaned her up and took her back for the judging. I walked into a very large room and there were the most beautiful dolls I had ever seen in my life. I wanted to hide the dolly and Daisy, that was her name, took the doll from my hands and said now isn’t that beautiful and placed it in the category most realistic and well loved baby.
The youth group was run very tight ship, you were scheduled for exercise classed each day and sewing and , you could pick a alternate class as well. In the school yard everyone was dressed in a blue gym suits, white socks and tennis shoes. My elder sisters were out there easy to spot them as they always had red long tights on to cover the bruising.
Judging was going on inside, as we finished up our classes and I remember walking in and my eyes roaming to the dolly, she had this big old ribbon attached to her, that said first place. Many lessons came from that day, I was so happy and so excited as I silently looked at her sitting on the table amongst the fanciest of dolls.
I call it a privilege through out my life to have met and known some of the kindest people who walked this earth. Daisy was one of the many people I came to admire and respect and hoped to emulate.
7 comments:
When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted for Christmas was a doll, a new doll....and I never got one. Sometimes the church would give us broken toys, and I would get a doll missing an eye or an arm or leg.
To this day, I collect old dolls whenever I can, I don't collect the new ones. I can relate better with the broken dolls.I guess we are still little girls inside.
We are lot a like you know, I have a collection of dolls, and my favorite were the old composition that needed TLC.I was kind of obsessive in collecting and when my daughter was born she was living a doll, that I slowed down but every now and then when I am in a resell shop I'll look for a old doll that needs tlc.
I always said I never let go of the ten year old in me. I think it is through a child eyes that you survive. We try to donate every year a doll to the church or pick a child off the tree and shop for her.
I like you post, I like to collect dolls new and old.I think your blog is well done.
Children w/o voices,
I too have been blessed by so many people that I have met in my life, that were mentors, some for a week, a day, maybe 10 minutes,,,,,but they touched my life, and I learned from each and everyone of them. From them I learned what I wanted, and what I didn't want.
It's odd, we were 4 girls, the oldest was wild, the youngest too, but the 2 in the middle, my sister and I that are very closely bonded, were not. I don't know how that happened. A toss of the dice,,chance encounters?
Maybe we just have to live out our lifeplan.....I know I have been very, very fortunate.
I had to laugh at your description of the lady in the youth group. How tall and lanky she was...
I had a 3rd grade teacher who taught me how to use the dictionary.....and oh, she held herself so proudly, she was tall, thin, very regal, a giant of a woman!! I met her years later, and she shrunk a foot!
Of course I had forgotten that I was so tiny, so petite, in 3rd grade I looked like I should have been in kindergarten.
I'm only 5 ft tall!...okay, I'm 4'11".
I love your stories, you have so many stories, that bring back memories of my own childhood. That's what a good writer does of course....you see their world and yet you remember yours.
You must read my post titled...The day I learned to use the dictionary, which was one of my very first posts.
Thats a really cool story! You should make it into a fictional short story and send it out...Your blog entris are always so introspective!
- Angel
I don't write on this particular blog to entertain, but to bring awareness that everyone has a few "skeletons in their closet" I have freelanced for several years now and the most requested pieces have been on death. Children as young as 3 yrs old who were murdered by their parents and teenagers who have commit suicide. This is not about a fictional story, it's about life and how varied peoples problems can be.Some families issues extreme and others on the lighter side, but how they effect the children should be taken seriously. We cannot cure all the ills of the world, but hopefully we can make a difference, even if it's one child at a time.
A young man in his early teens, received a black eye, he went to school and everyone asked him who gave him the black eye, he responded my father he replied. Everyone laughed and said sure he did. No one believed him. In my travels I meet many people, some in very complicated situations, abuse is not to be taken lightly and I stand by the fact that awareness of the evils of the world,might wake people up. We don't need more toys and clothes, we need more alternatives for children. We need for people to see all those who are lacking love and stability. Children are the ones to suffer they don't choose to be in families of dysfunction. Most what I write about has in the past been in the newspapers, It is something we had to live with, a shame we hid behind. Adult children should not have to live the " sins of their parents"
Hi Matty,
Reading your response only reinforces
in my mind how some people have a inner spirit that is able to comprehend the world around the, I was told I was super sensitive. I felt like I had to defend myself for that, but as I mature I realize that
there is nothing wrong with emotion.
So many people haven't a clue of what life is about, It is beautiful and magical and only man complicates it. I believe you treat people as you want to be treated. Cruel is the world. I grew up thinking I didn't fit in the average fish bowl, when I now realize they weren't swimming in mine.
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