Toy Story

 

She was a brunette with shoulder length hair and long dark lashes.  And she had legs for days. She wore denim overalls over a red checkered long-sleeved shirt (impractical in the tropics but she never complained) and the cutest pair of red felt boots. I woke up with her every day, and slept with her next to me, tucked in under the thin sheets. 

When my asthma would kick in during holidays and birthdays and every time I was stressed, she was with me. I told her stories and put her in stories, usually having her go to the grocery store and back, and where she was so loved no matter what she looked like (brunette with blue eyes) or said (she was the quiet type though).  I loved her to the moon and back and she knew all my secrets, especially the sad ones. 

And then one day she was gone. 

Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt: Toy Story

What was your favorite plaything as a child? Do you see any connection between your life now, and your favorite childhood toy?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us MEMENTO.

My favorite toy was a cloth doll that sorta looked like Holly Hobby but wasn’t.  Maybe it was some kind of knock-off doll with yellow yarn hair and big stitched eyes.  It wore a pinafore and it kept me company during many of the asthma attacks that plagued me when I was hitting my teens, when I learned that monsters weren’t just from old tales and books, but from the very people you were supposed to trust.

There was never a Christmas worth remembering that did not end up with me having to sleep sitting up because I just couldn’t breathe lying down – and always I was alone because everyone was out celebrating.  But I was content as long as I had my books and that doll with me to keep me company.  And because it was soft, I could sleep with her next to me, unlike the vinyl skin dolls that looked pretty but weren’t meant to be left next to you – unless you wanted it to poke your eye out with its stiff arms.

I still find myself looking through Etsy or eBay just in case I’d spot it again, just as I’d found an old Raggedy Ann & Andy radio that was stolen when I was around that age as well.  I’m sure that if I do come across it, I’d probably think of buying it – only to close the window on my screen because just like chapters in a book, I need to move away from that part of my life and move on.

ragdolls

Daily Prompt

.

.

.