DOLLY

My mother use to make us throw away our old toys, even if we loved them dearly. If they had rusted or were unpleasant looking it wasn’t long before it was in the trash. I don’t blame her, there were 6 of us. So you can imagine the volume of toys and stuffed animals that accumulated over time. It made no difference to her if GI Joe lost a leg in battle. By the way, you don’t just throw away a decorated soldier like that, who mind you won many battles against Barbie alien robots and ant hills. Anyways on my way to lunch one day with a co-worker I started to realize the vast number of people that still had childhood toys stored away in their homes. There precious toys where sealed in cellophane and bubble wrapped for safety. At first I was like, loser!!! Grow up. Then after awhile I noticed I was the minority so I didn’t say much and just listened in as every one talked about there small collection of my little ponies. I could feel the tear stuck in the back of my throat. Not because I threw away all those little ponies but because mother said my little ponies where the devil and if we had them in the house they would bring with them there devil powers and give me bad dreams. I did have some toys that I loved. My quince collection, this came out prior to in vitro fertilization and it was a set of quintuplet babies. I got the house, Mexican quinces and white quinces and little cloths and little furniture. I had it all, then one day we had to move in 3 days and I had to throw it away. I stared at those poor tiny little babies in the trash for hours, wondering if maybe some trash man would come along and drill wholes in there little heads to make key chains out of them. However nothing was as heart breaking as the day I had to throw away dolly. I loved her so much, I couldn’t love a human being more then I loved this doll…at that time. She had a plush body and oversized plastic head. There was a brown coating of paint on the top of her head and small brown curl in the center of her forehead. Mother got her for me cause I grew up with a head to large for my small frail body, it was suppose to make me secure in my underdeveloped body. It did, she was the only one that could relate to me. The other dolls could sit straight up and be fed our leftover pudding. Not dolly, o we tried but it resulted in many stains which in turn resulted in dolly losing her doll cloths and now stood bare with small spots of red and off white food stains on her plush body. She smelt like grilled cheese sandwiches and jello. It was a beautiful aroma. I tried my best to hide her stains, cleaned her off as often as possible. I saw the way mother looked at her. I would smile politely at mother as I took a baby whip to dolly’s large head. Then one day the unthinkable happened, my little sister got a hold of a sharpie marker and drew all over dolly’s head. I hyperventilate as I write this, breath breath...it was the single most devastating moment of my life; more then going to bed hungry or being kicked out of our home. The day dolly died was tragic. I remember it exactly. Mothered had been threatening for weeks that dolly had to go, I tried desperately to get the sharpie marker off her precious mammoth head, scrubbing and crying hoping my tears would be seen by God and he would turn them into the strongest astringent and would remove this wicked sharpie. I hid dolly on the top bunk, but it was so hard being away from her. Then one day, after months of hiding I took her outside. I don’t know why I did it, probably because I thought our love would keep her alive. There was tremendous fear that day, mother was at the market and I thought it would be safe but she came back for coupons and saw dolly. We argued for what seemed like hours but she was unrelenting, dolly would have to go in the trash. I don’t remember much regarding my rebuttal to her verdict, it was mostly tears. Had father been there he would have stop this madness and injustice. I stood in the trash closet for the rest of that day, taking in the fumes of day old leftovers and bad fruit. I watched dolly lay lifeless on top of the trash. I kept the lid open and sobbed terribly. I knew mother would only be gone for an hour and she would make me leave the closet and close the lid off the trash can. I heard the front door open and my mother scream for us to come help her with the groceries. I shut the lid and slowly stepped out of the closet. Weakened from grief I could only carry in one gallon of milk. I checked on dolly the rest of the day and watched as trash pilled on top her, it was unbearable. I miss her right now…I am also experiencing strong feelings of dislike toward my mother right now too…I want her back MOM!!!