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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Family
- Published: 11/29/2021
The Doll.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States.jpeg)
Author's Note: As many of you know, I try to write a Christmas story (or two) every Christmas Season. This is Number two already for this year. Merry Christmas!
*****
She chose yet another strand of her long hair. Snip. Snip. Snip.
Some quick needle point and she was ready for another strand. Snip. Snip. Snip.
She took a moment to breathe on her fingers. It was cold in the barn up in the loft. There wasn’t anywhere else where she could do her work in secret. After a few minutes, she picked up the doll and went back to work. Snip. Snip. Snip.
“Have you seen Susan?”
Her husband looked up from his lunch.
“Last time I saw her, she was headed towards the barn.”
“Did you give her another chore?”
The look her husband gave her made her follow up quickly.
“I mean I know she is almost thirteen now and can handle all the work you give her. But did you give her something to do in the barn, in this cold?”
Her husband’s look softened. A smile grew on his face. He was proud of his daughter. Very proud.
“She is the best kid in the world. She works so hard that both Brian and Shane have to stretch to keep up, and they are two years older. But no, I did not give her anything to do in the barn. The tack is frozen, the stalls are clean and dry, she did those yesterday, so she must be doing something on her own. She is a lot like you, you know. Hard working, has to stay busy. Keeps trying to make things better.”
A small blush appeared on her neck. She married well. And she knew it. They might not have much, but they had what they needed. And he was proud of her, and their children. He would do to ride the high country with…or start a farm on the edge of the Frontier She smiled and patted him lightly on the shoulder. She glanced out the window at the barn. At least she was indoors and out of the wind.
*****
“A shawl, what in the world are you wearing a shawl around your head for? Take it off.”
“I can’t.”
Her Mother straightened up. It wasn’t often her eldest daughter refused her anything. To straight out ignore an order she gave was not acceptable…and unusual. So instead of yelling, she grew quiet.
“And why can’t you?”
Her daughter also straightened up. Both the older woman and the young girl had strong spines…and would stand up for themselves. It made the older woman smile inside. Her daughter had strength of character. Strong enough to stand up to another strong willed woman. She would do just fine.
“Because then you will know.”
“Know what?”
“Wait until tomorrow, you’ll know then.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas.”
“I know.”
And that was the end of that conversation.
*****
FLASHBACK: A tiny five year old girl is curled up on her Mom’s lap. It is cold. It is winter. It is Christmas. The five year old girl is holding a raggedy Ann doll. The first doll she ever got. Ever. Her Mother thought she was asleep. She was not. She was listening. Her Mother was telling her Father about the fact that she never had a doll of her own. Nor did any of her six siblings. She had a wood carving her Uncle Ernest made of a deer. That was as close as she ever got to a doll, or a toy.
The five year old girl held back a tear. She would make a doll for her Mom some day. A doll that would make up for a whole life without one. She promised herself. God. And her Mother. In that order. Then…she squeezed her dolly tight and went to sleep. Seven years would pass…the promise hidden…not forgotten.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
*****
“What’s this?!”
Everyone was gathered around. Her Mother was holding the burlap wrapped around whatever was inside. She was squeezing the burlap around whatever was inside. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what it might be. It was big, about the size of a year old baby. It was soft and squishy. But that is all the clues she could squeeze out with her hands.
Her face was lit up with delighted wonder.
“My goodness gracious, I have no idea what you have given me child.”
Her husband gave a little head shake.
“I don’t know either. Come on, open it up!”
More voices chirped in. The five children, her husbands brother and his wife, their two children. Her three other sisters and their Beaus made a cheerful chorus as sweet as any choir.
“Come on Mavis, open it! Maybe it is that new horse you wanted for the buggy!”
Everyone laughed.
Finally, she cheerfully started with child like glee to peel back the burlap, and some straw stuffing that hid whatever was in the gift.
When she pulled it out. The room went quiet.
Have you ever seen pure joy? It takes your breath away. Tears fall unhindered. Hearts soar. Had you seen her pull that gift out of the burlap you would have seen it. Pure. Joy.
She held it up high. So everyone could see it. Almost every women and girl’s hands flew to cover their mouths as their eyes puddled shiny with tears. Every man and boy let out a soft sound of delight.
It was a doll. A doll with long long beautiful brown hair. With eyebrows made from the same shiny hair. It was pretty obvious that the doll was handmade…with love. The doll was wearing the same kind of apron that her Mother wore when she was gathering herbs and flowers out up in the meadows. A small bag of flowers was woven into her one hand. In the world of Raggedy Ann dolls, it was High Society. It was…in a word…beautiful.
“I…I…never…I never dreamed…I mean…its beautiful. Its…gorgeous. Its …its… I never had a doll.” The tears rushed as she crushed the doll to her bosom. She looked over at her eldest daughter. Eyes wide with every good emotion, gratitude and thankfulness that a Mother, a girl, and a woman could feel.
Her daughter let her shawl fall to her shoulders.
Her Father let out a surprised yelp of dismay:
“Susan, what have you done with your hair?!”
“I made a doll.”
It was the best Christmas …ever.
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