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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Seasonal / Holidays
- Published: 12/18/2018
The little girl and her dollies.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United StatesShe couldn’t have been more than seven, and more likely was closer to being six. She was tiny with long blonde hair and violet eyes. It was the eyes that caught my attention first. I had never seen purple eyes before.
It was what she was doing though that made me stand in the shadows and watch.
*****
Every year at Christmas the Local Charities gave away Dollies. All kinds of dollies. Big dollies. Little dollies. Stuffed dollies. Porcelain Dollies. Raggedy Ann dollies. Some cried, or drank from a bottle, or had to have their diapers changed. Some could gurgle or coo, or even say: “Mommy.”
Some were in big bright beautiful boxes. Others were placed in old shoe boxes, or even plastic bags. A few, well, they just lay there on card tables to be sorted through by hopeful children. Often there were just the dolls on the card tables left for the stragglers to chose from.
The dolls on the card tables were the discarded ones, the ones that had been something special at one time. Now they were nothing special at all. Some were missing an arm, an eye, had ripped or torn blouses, dresses, or aprons. Dollies that look liked they lived through the Depression, were found at the town dump, or had been given to a dog as a chew toy.
The little blonde girl was sitting next to that card table. The one that had those dolls on it. She sat on one of those children size wicker chairs you used to see back in the fifties and sixties. Next to her was a pile of dollies. On her other side was an old fashioned picnic basket. Inside that picnic basket were buttons, thread, yarn, bits of colored cloth, several kinds of needles and scissors- and assorted accessories a dolly might need: tiny shoes, little necklaces, gloves, hats that ranged from silly to sublime.
The little girl would take a few dollies from the table, set them down next to her, sit down and begin working.
*****
I watched as she picked up a doll that was missing one eye, had part of the left arm torn, and what was left of an old skirt on. She flipped the doll over examined the back (which had a torn seam with stuffing coming out of it) probed into the torn seen with a tiny finger, and flipped the doll back over.
She looked at the doll again at arm’s length. Made a moue with her face and then … she spoke to the doll:
“Okay, Angie. Your one good eye is blue. I like blue eyes. So I shall give you another blue eye. You are going to need stitches. Black would stand out on you…so I think I shall use grey thread (she squinted at the doll as she held up the thread agains the torn seem- they almost matched). Yes, that will do nicely. It will leave a scar, but not to bad of one. You can always make up a story to go with it!”
She reached into the picnic basket pulled out a little Tupperware box filled with colored buttons of all kinds. Searching through that collection of buttons, she found three that she thought might work as another blue eye. I watched as she placed each one of them next to the doll’s “good eye” until she found the exact right match.
“Oh, yes!” I heard her say.
All the other buttons went back in the Tupperware box, and the box itself went back in the picnic basket. She opened the other side of the picnic basket and pulled out several small dresses, a few aprons, and some tiny shoes. As carefully as any mother of three in a Thrift shop, she sorted thru the shoes and dresses, until she found an outfit she liked. One that matched the blue of the dolls eyes, and the grey of the doll's stuffed body.
She set the clothes and shoes, next to the new blue eye and grey thread. She pulled a little lap cushion with a hard board on one side- one of those “lap desks” that never caught on. With the pillow side on her lap, she used the board side to hold the dolly,the outfit, and the new eye and thread. Then she got to work.
I watched as she focused fully on her work. Her little tongue wetting the thread to place in the eye of the needle. She threaded it on the first try, like a world class seamstress in miniature. She took up the eye, place it on the doll, moving it slightly until it was even and level- and made her first stitch.
She worked steadily. Confidently. Slowly.
A half hour later, she held the doll up in front of her with both arms fully extended.
“Well, I do say Angie, you look much better. You are very pretty now. Don’t you go getting a big head!”
Her giggle made me laugh.
I couldn’t believe it was the same doll. She had beautiful blue eyes now, one round and glassy, the other flat and button like, but they fit somehow. She was wearing not shoes, but cowboy boots. Her arms were both blemish free, and her stuffing had been replaced with care - giving her substance, but not a weight issue. The little girl had given her a skirt, a blouse, a vest, and a cute Western hat.
The other two outfits she had chosen for the doll, a simple one piece summer dress with blue suede shoes that matched the doll’s eyes was one. The other was a pair of jeans, a sweater, tennis shoes, and a dark blue purse. She put both of those in large sandwich bags, taping them to the doll with a bit of scotch tape.
She sat back satisfied.
“There you go Angie. You are all fixed up, you have three outfits to wear. Now all you need is a home!”
*****
The little girl with the Violet eyes carried Angie and her outfits back to the card table. She cleared off a little area on one side, put some straw out and set the doll down as if she was a country girl at a barn dance. She wrote on a piece of plane white paper: Angie.
Then she went back to her chair, sorted thru the pile of dolls on one side, picked out an old Raggedy Ann doll that was so far past seeing better days, it couldn’t even see a better day in its future.
“Well, you are going to take some work. You might even have to go to hospital.”
With grim determination, the little girl did the same slow, confident, careful exam of the Raggedy Ann as she had with the previous doll. It just took a bit longer that’s all.
She sat the Raggedy Ann doll back down. She was going to need lots of things to fix this one up. She got out red yard for the hair, red thread for the lips, black buttons for the eyes. She got out some paints too. Then she went to work.
*****
Again, I couldn’t believe it when she held the Raggedy Ann out for it’s last inspection. It looked…well, Raggedy Ann like. But the kind of Raggedy Ann that was rugged enough to take on a toddler and survive until the trip to college was around the corner. For make no mistake, this doll was a one owner only doll- at least the way the little girl fixed it up. You kept this doll bundled in your life until they put it next to you in your casket seventy or so years later. You could already see it’s staying power when the little girl took it over to the card table.
She placed it on some of the straw left over from Angie’s Western Scene:
“There you go. Now don’t you go off with the first girl that comes around. You wait for the right one. You hear?”
I swear the doll must have answered her. For she smiled a big smile at the doll and said:
“Okay. Deal.”
*****
It must have been eight or nine dollies later, the card table now filled not with discards, or seconds, but with fully fleshed out lovable dollies, before the little girl packed up her picnic basket, put away all of sewing kit, scissors and paints. Took the two remaining dolls and placed them back on the very edge of the card table.
She patted each of those two dolls with a soft parting touch, and these words:
“Don’t you worry. I will be back tomorrow to fix you up pretty. You will find a home by Christmas.”
Then she gave each of them a peck on their cheeks and headed over to a Lady putting boxes of fancy dolls on a table getting ready for tomorrow’s giveaways.
“Are you almost done Mom?”
“Yes, Honey. How many did you get done today?”
With pride she blurted out:
“Nine! But two of them were very easy to fix up. No tears, or ripped seams, or missing eyes. I just put the right clothes on them, and they will find a home.”
The Mom looked over at the card table..her eyes softened.
“Oh, honey, you are going to make so many children happy this Christmas.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
As they turned to go, and the mother took the little girl’s hand…I had to blink back tears. I said a prayer too.
The little girl’s back looked just like a doll’s. A scar ran all the way up her back, and her dress was sewn to her body.
Now I knew why she had violet button like eyes.
Merry Christmas.
The little girl and her dollies.(Kevin Hughes)
She couldn’t have been more than seven, and more likely was closer to being six. She was tiny with long blonde hair and violet eyes. It was the eyes that caught my attention first. I had never seen purple eyes before.
It was what she was doing though that made me stand in the shadows and watch.
*****
Every year at Christmas the Local Charities gave away Dollies. All kinds of dollies. Big dollies. Little dollies. Stuffed dollies. Porcelain Dollies. Raggedy Ann dollies. Some cried, or drank from a bottle, or had to have their diapers changed. Some could gurgle or coo, or even say: “Mommy.”
Some were in big bright beautiful boxes. Others were placed in old shoe boxes, or even plastic bags. A few, well, they just lay there on card tables to be sorted through by hopeful children. Often there were just the dolls on the card tables left for the stragglers to chose from.
The dolls on the card tables were the discarded ones, the ones that had been something special at one time. Now they were nothing special at all. Some were missing an arm, an eye, had ripped or torn blouses, dresses, or aprons. Dollies that look liked they lived through the Depression, were found at the town dump, or had been given to a dog as a chew toy.
The little blonde girl was sitting next to that card table. The one that had those dolls on it. She sat on one of those children size wicker chairs you used to see back in the fifties and sixties. Next to her was a pile of dollies. On her other side was an old fashioned picnic basket. Inside that picnic basket were buttons, thread, yarn, bits of colored cloth, several kinds of needles and scissors- and assorted accessories a dolly might need: tiny shoes, little necklaces, gloves, hats that ranged from silly to sublime.
The little girl would take a few dollies from the table, set them down next to her, sit down and begin working.
*****
I watched as she picked up a doll that was missing one eye, had part of the left arm torn, and what was left of an old skirt on. She flipped the doll over examined the back (which had a torn seam with stuffing coming out of it) probed into the torn seen with a tiny finger, and flipped the doll back over.
She looked at the doll again at arm’s length. Made a moue with her face and then … she spoke to the doll:
“Okay, Angie. Your one good eye is blue. I like blue eyes. So I shall give you another blue eye. You are going to need stitches. Black would stand out on you…so I think I shall use grey thread (she squinted at the doll as she held up the thread agains the torn seem- they almost matched). Yes, that will do nicely. It will leave a scar, but not to bad of one. You can always make up a story to go with it!”
She reached into the picnic basket pulled out a little Tupperware box filled with colored buttons of all kinds. Searching through that collection of buttons, she found three that she thought might work as another blue eye. I watched as she placed each one of them next to the doll’s “good eye” until she found the exact right match.
“Oh, yes!” I heard her say.
All the other buttons went back in the Tupperware box, and the box itself went back in the picnic basket. She opened the other side of the picnic basket and pulled out several small dresses, a few aprons, and some tiny shoes. As carefully as any mother of three in a Thrift shop, she sorted thru the shoes and dresses, until she found an outfit she liked. One that matched the blue of the dolls eyes, and the grey of the doll's stuffed body.
She set the clothes and shoes, next to the new blue eye and grey thread. She pulled a little lap cushion with a hard board on one side- one of those “lap desks” that never caught on. With the pillow side on her lap, she used the board side to hold the dolly,the outfit, and the new eye and thread. Then she got to work.
I watched as she focused fully on her work. Her little tongue wetting the thread to place in the eye of the needle. She threaded it on the first try, like a world class seamstress in miniature. She took up the eye, place it on the doll, moving it slightly until it was even and level- and made her first stitch.
She worked steadily. Confidently. Slowly.
A half hour later, she held the doll up in front of her with both arms fully extended.
“Well, I do say Angie, you look much better. You are very pretty now. Don’t you go getting a big head!”
Her giggle made me laugh.
I couldn’t believe it was the same doll. She had beautiful blue eyes now, one round and glassy, the other flat and button like, but they fit somehow. She was wearing not shoes, but cowboy boots. Her arms were both blemish free, and her stuffing had been replaced with care - giving her substance, but not a weight issue. The little girl had given her a skirt, a blouse, a vest, and a cute Western hat.
The other two outfits she had chosen for the doll, a simple one piece summer dress with blue suede shoes that matched the doll’s eyes was one. The other was a pair of jeans, a sweater, tennis shoes, and a dark blue purse. She put both of those in large sandwich bags, taping them to the doll with a bit of scotch tape.
She sat back satisfied.
“There you go Angie. You are all fixed up, you have three outfits to wear. Now all you need is a home!”
*****
The little girl with the Violet eyes carried Angie and her outfits back to the card table. She cleared off a little area on one side, put some straw out and set the doll down as if she was a country girl at a barn dance. She wrote on a piece of plane white paper: Angie.
Then she went back to her chair, sorted thru the pile of dolls on one side, picked out an old Raggedy Ann doll that was so far past seeing better days, it couldn’t even see a better day in its future.
“Well, you are going to take some work. You might even have to go to hospital.”
With grim determination, the little girl did the same slow, confident, careful exam of the Raggedy Ann as she had with the previous doll. It just took a bit longer that’s all.
She sat the Raggedy Ann doll back down. She was going to need lots of things to fix this one up. She got out red yard for the hair, red thread for the lips, black buttons for the eyes. She got out some paints too. Then she went to work.
*****
Again, I couldn’t believe it when she held the Raggedy Ann out for it’s last inspection. It looked…well, Raggedy Ann like. But the kind of Raggedy Ann that was rugged enough to take on a toddler and survive until the trip to college was around the corner. For make no mistake, this doll was a one owner only doll- at least the way the little girl fixed it up. You kept this doll bundled in your life until they put it next to you in your casket seventy or so years later. You could already see it’s staying power when the little girl took it over to the card table.
She placed it on some of the straw left over from Angie’s Western Scene:
“There you go. Now don’t you go off with the first girl that comes around. You wait for the right one. You hear?”
I swear the doll must have answered her. For she smiled a big smile at the doll and said:
“Okay. Deal.”
*****
It must have been eight or nine dollies later, the card table now filled not with discards, or seconds, but with fully fleshed out lovable dollies, before the little girl packed up her picnic basket, put away all of sewing kit, scissors and paints. Took the two remaining dolls and placed them back on the very edge of the card table.
She patted each of those two dolls with a soft parting touch, and these words:
“Don’t you worry. I will be back tomorrow to fix you up pretty. You will find a home by Christmas.”
Then she gave each of them a peck on their cheeks and headed over to a Lady putting boxes of fancy dolls on a table getting ready for tomorrow’s giveaways.
“Are you almost done Mom?”
“Yes, Honey. How many did you get done today?”
With pride she blurted out:
“Nine! But two of them were very easy to fix up. No tears, or ripped seams, or missing eyes. I just put the right clothes on them, and they will find a home.”
The Mom looked over at the card table..her eyes softened.
“Oh, honey, you are going to make so many children happy this Christmas.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
As they turned to go, and the mother took the little girl’s hand…I had to blink back tears. I said a prayer too.
The little girl’s back looked just like a doll’s. A scar ran all the way up her back, and her dress was sewn to her body.
Now I knew why she had violet button like eyes.
Merry Christmas.
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Rati J.
12/26/2018''Poor Little Rich Girl''- Reality trickles down from eyes!
Thank you Sir, for sharing the touching story with us:)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rati J.
01/02/2019Thank you Sir, and a Very Happy New Year!!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
12/31/2018Rati J,
Thanks for your kind words! I love your clause: "...reality trickles down from eyes." Well said ! Happy New Year. Kevin
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