On the Christmas right before my eighth birthday, my parents surprised with something I hadn’t asked for, a rag doll named Jennifer. She turned out to be one of the most important gifts of my childhood, and she stayed with me for years.
Most of our communication–for I believed Jennifer talked to me in her own silent language–was at night, after I went to bed. There, under the covers, I would tell her all my secrets. Unfortunately, I had a few my parents should have been made aware of, although of course I didn’t know that at the time. But Jennifer understood, and I always got a hug from her.
She was about sixteen inches tall, with orangey-red yarn for hair, felt cheeks and eyes, and a purple dress with bold flowers on it. Her smile was drawn on with a felt marker. Whenever my mom washed her, she needed the smile retraced and new cheeks and eyes placed on her creamy white face. Her body was shaped like an upside-down triangle. She was special.
I didn’t just tell her my secrets under the covers. Together, with the help of a flashlight I would sneak from the utility drawer, we read all the the Little House books (multiple times), The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, Alice in Wonderland and Little Women. When I was nine, we began reading a series of books from the Scholastic Book Club, none of which I can remember now.
Eventually, Jennifer began to fall apart. The stuffing started coming out of her feet, which were difficult to patch properly. The dog peed on her, and my mom never could get that stain out. The little bobbles on the bottom of her dress fell off.
One day, I came home and Jennifer was gone. My mom had thrown her out. While I won’t say I still hold a grudge, I can’t yet fathom why a mother would do that to her child. Mom knew what she meant to me. There had to be a better way.
Today, I treasure the memory of that little doll. Every child should have something they can cling to.
Note: The doll pictured above, of course, is not Jennifer. I couldn’t find a picture that looked like her, but that little doll resembles her spirit.
Image Credits: Rag Doll © Kira Nova–stock.adobe.com; Rag Doll Cats © Photocreo Bednarek–stock.adobe.com
Just for fun, here are some shots of a Rag Doll Cat:
My World With Words 
The Five Little Peppers and Scholastic Book Club–my favorites! I loved when our books arrived at school and could not wait until our book orders were finally placed on our desks. Such great memories, Belinda.
I had two favorite dolls–Rita and Margaret. Sadly, I was the one who got rid of them. I had kept them forever but was getting ready to move from Jersey to Florida and didn’t want to keep too much stuff at home, and couldn’t bring it all with me. Worse, the books and records I did leave, my mother got rid of. Never told me until I found out. I say it is so long ago that it rolls off my back, but it still brings back hurtful memories for me.
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I understand the hurtful memories. But, yes, Scholastic Books–so much fun! I always had a hard time narrowing down the number I’d order since my parents “only” allowed five at a time.
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This is a beautiful story.
It’s too bad your mother couldn’t figure out a way to keep Jennifer.
Today, parents bend over backwards to keep these memories intact lol
I think a bit of balance is required 😉
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You’re right about balance. Keeping Jennifer may not have been possible, or practical, but there had to be some easier way of letting go.
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