Today I wish for each of you to have a dream come true.
Yesterday morning a sizable truck with orange letters on both sides pulled up to the front of my house. While I was working at my half-moon desk, I heard the sound of the snow go, “Crunch.” It was deeper this time, telling me this could be the moment I had been waiting for. I jumped to see. From behind our leaded glass door, my heart filled with glee.
Early in January, I walked through my mother’s Arizona house for the very last time. She had passed away over three years before. The shell of her house felt hallow and empty, with nothing there except for pieces of furniture waiting for new homes. Roaming from room to room, I took each step remembering the days gone by. There, I felt her spirit everywhere. Nearly sold, the stucco house in the desert was ready to be filled with a new family’s love and lives. I remembered the last day I walked through with tears in my eyes. I wrote of it in a post entitled, “My Mother’s House,” http://wp.me/p41md8-VB.
There was a very special piece of furniture remaining that meant much to my mother. It was a large cabinet made mostly of glass with a bit of wood supporting it. Inside was a mirrored back reflecting rows of glass shelving lit from above. On the outside was an unusual door, sliding from side to side together with a skeleton key to lock intruders out. Empty now, at one time it held my mother’s prized collection of dolls. Not so long before, little ‘girls and boys’ could be seen playing inside!
I would often watch my mother’s delight at the sight of her other children, remembering how she adjusted their petite clothes or the way she combed long locks of colored hair. She tied itty-bitty shoe laces, cocked jointed heads this way or that and gently put tiny toys into miniature hands. They looked so real to me! My mother once told me that she never had her own doll as a child. Her family was too poor. For all of her life, I believe she tried to fill a deep, dark hole inside of her that never left. Sadly, it was still there when she passed away. Now, I like to think of my mother as little girl in heaven, playing in a field of flowers with endless dolls of all sizes, shapes and colors. Oh, how she would have loved that!
My father gave to me my mother’s very special cabinet before I left for the long trip back to Missouri. He could have sold it in a sale for dollars and cents, paper and coins. This would have helped him financially, to be sure. Still, he wanted me to have it. I could barely find the words to thank him. Instead, I put my arms around his neck, kissed his cheek and dropped a tear upon the collar of his cotton shirt.
This morning a large piece furniture made of glass with little wood sits in my grand-daughter’s play room with a crib of white near-by. Soon, I will fill it with my mother’s dolls. Together my precious princess child and I will use the skeleton key to unlock a mystery door. Gently, we will lift dolls out, one-by-one Holding them, they will be loved, cherished and played with while telling stories and making up names. She will be taught the magic of the cabinet while learning all about her loving great-grandmother.
This is a very special Valentine’s Day for me. The spirit of my mother together with her heart and soul are here today. A memorable cabinet is against a nursery wall, soon to be filled with dolls and treasured tales for generations to come. I send my mother a Valentine to heaven above. She sees it and smiles. She’s happy, I know. I feel it here in my heart where my own valentine sits and smiles.