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The Gift of a Doll

My doll and I learning love.

My doll and I learning love.

When I was born my Uncle Muriel placed a doll along side me in my crib. A doll was a singular companion in those days. They didn’t come by the basketful, made on an assembly line, stamped out in a far off country, one of dozens to overload a child’s bedroom. They came alone, to be loved.

She was my only toy companion for many years, and I valued her. As I grew, I learned to cuddle her, care for her, protect her. Carried everywhere, taken on picnics, dressed, and fed cookies and tea, she entertained me. She sat while I read to her, endured my pampering, and listened while I cried or vented my frustration. I am sure I mimicked the nurturing I received from my parents, but it was more than that. I gifted her with what I desired…to be cuddled, cared for, protected, pampered, listened to, love. I learned to give what I needed. I learned how to love.

A constant companion.

A constant companion.

In this season of gifting, I think of her. I’m reminded to cuddle my grandchildren, pamper my husband, listen to others, and care. My desires are few. In our stamped out material world, I hope we receive less and value it more. I hope what we give and get does not teach us isolation, but teaches us how to love.

By the way, I still have that doll. It sits in a chair now, not cuddled much but protected, its job complete. So, here is one more wish, that we cherish our past and learn from it.

Cherished still

Cherished still.