Beloved Readers,

I hope you're having a lovely spring.

On Facebook the other day, I asked if anyone had a favorite doll or stuffed animal as a child. Many shared their answers, and I said I'd share my memory here.

As a child living in Maryland, I went to a lot of auctions with my parents. I found it interesting to mill around outside on different properties and watch people buy items, but I never got anything. The auctions sold mostly farm equipment and household goods. But at one auction there were a lot of toys and a box of antique dolls. I didn't care anything about the other items, but as I looked through that box of dolls, I instantly fell in love with one of them. I went to my mom and asked for money. She sent me to my dad, saying she didn't have a penny with her. I spent half the day trying to talk my dad into giving me money to buy her. He finally gave me a dollar and said if the doll cost more than that, I couldn't have her. I waited all afternoon for that doll to hit the auction block, but when the time finally came, the auctioneer sold the box, not individual dolls.

I started crying and ran to my dad. He said, "Don't look at me. I'm not the one who wants the doll. If it's that important, go to the man who bought the box and ask if he'll sell one to you. All he can say is no, and you'll be no worse off than you are now."

His speech made sense, except it wasn't like me to approach people with a request. But I really wanted that doll, so I reluctantly followed the man out to his car, held my lone dollar out to him, and said I wanted to buy one of the dolls from the box. "They're not for sale," he huffed. But I kept following him, explaining I only wanted one of the dolls. He set the box in the back of his station wagon, sighed, and asked which one. I told him, and he grabbed her up. "This one?" He studied her. "I could let this one go, but none of the others."

Apparently I'd wanted the least valuable doll. He passed her to me and shoved my dollar into his pocket.

I cherished that little doll. My sister helped me make new clothes for her.

My doll

Years later, as a young adult who no longer lived at home, I needed money. So I put her in a yard sale. My mom tried to talk me out of selling her, assuring me I'd regret it.

I told her I was fine about the doll, that I needed money more than a childish plaything. Mom helped me set up for the yard sale, and the doll was one of the first items to sell.

One day, probably ten years later, I finally confessed to my mom how much I regretted selling her.

A few days later my mom came to my home with a box in hand. It wasn't my birthday or Christmas. After removing tons of faded and torn tissue paper, I discovered my doll. I also learned that all those years ago my mom had given a friend of hers money to come to the yard sale and purchase it.

My mom died fourteen years ago, right before Mother's Day.

Each of us only has a certain number of days to live. Let's use some of them to discover an unusual way of saying I love you to someone special.

Happy Mother's Day!

Cindy