One day while going through your grandmothers attic you notice in the corner a small porcelain doll. You wonder where she came from, who owned her before, and why she is tucked away in this dark, dank attic….
As you walk closer you can see her legs have tiny cracks forming from years of neglect, her arms are jointed and stiff, her once red, satin, curly hair is in knots…her head isВ leaning back against the cold, damp wooden wall…you see faded, blue eyes staring ahead never blinking…most of her eye lashes have fallen out… She looks so real, you think as you sit down next to her….weird thoughts and feelings come over you…Does she feel? Does she hurt? What stories could she tell if only she had a voice….
You pick her up and as you hold the doll close to you something mysterious happens … A sense of tiredness comes over you and as you close your eyes visions of days gone by start to flood your mind…the doll right out of the factory…perfect legs, beautiful slinky, red curly hair reaching to the shoulders, the most perfect blue colored eyes, lashes that seem to stretch to the heavens. The perfect doll, one anyone girl would be proud to call her own.
You flash over to another scene…The wind blowing through her hair as the little girl that holds her runs through the meadows…legs brushing up against wild flowers and her pale blue dress picking up the wisps of weeds and the scents of the clean summer breeze, arms and legs moving joyfully in the air as she is thrown overhead to the screaming delights of her little girl…the doll looking down upon the little girl so happy…she belongs…she is loved…
Years go by and everything is perfect…days full of memories are created…a carefree time that seems like nothing will go wrong…she is loved, cherished, protected…nothing can ruin this feeling…or so it seems…
But time is cruel…tiny cracks, like highways, appear on her once smooth porcelain skin, the joints in her legs are stiff and no longer move easily….the once brilliant blue eyes fade… her long ago brilliant red hair has now faded to a clown color pink from all the years of being out in the sun. Her once prized lovely, soft curls now are tangled like spiderwebs with bald spots here and there…She is no longer perfect to the child who once loved her and she is discarded for another shiny, perfect toy…
“Wait! Come back!” She shouts in her head “I may be broken but I love you! I am still me!”
You open your eyes and look down at the porcelain doll, sadness dwelling in your heart…you wonder how anyone could discard something that was once so precious to them….a doll that gave love unconditionally, who was there in good times and bad….just because she is no longer beautiful…put away in a dark room to no longer bring joy to others because she is not perfect and brand new….
As you hold her in your lap and marvel at what you just felt and saw from the dolls eyes… you move closer and take a look at her pale face….what is that? You notice something glistening in the corner of her eye…you watch in perplexity as a tear slides down her cracked porcelain face….
Written by Rebbekah White
Graphics fromВ Butterflywebgraphics.com