A Funeral For My Doll Head
by Gina Holmes
When I was a child, I was so tenderhearted that I couldn’t bear to see anything suffer. Not even inanimate objects. My big sister, Chrissy, and I would fight like there was no tomorrow. Hey, I was a softy but I was no pushover. During one of our knockdown
drag-outs, she broke my doll. Tore it’s head right off and smashed its body.
drag-outs, she broke my doll. Tore it’s head right off and smashed its body.
Gina as a child
Try as I might to repair little Sally, she was unfixable. And so, I carried that doll head around, loving her even more than I did before. I took her head with me wherever I went.
My mother and sister said nothing for a while, thinking I was just either being morbid or trying to make my sister feel bad for what she’d done. After months of this my mom finally asked me to please throw the broken toy away.
I was horrified., “I have to love her. No one else will.”
My mother and sister said nothing for a while, thinking I was just either being morbid or trying to make my sister feel bad for what she’d done. After months of this my mom finally asked me to please throw the broken toy away.
I was horrified., “I have to love her. No one else will.”
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First, let me just say you had wonderful taste when it came to naming your dolls. :)
ReplyDeleteI remember being horrified when Jenny made her choice, but I realized right away that it was the right thing to do and the only thing she could do.
There are certain topics I've always thought I'd never write about, certain things that I think would be too painful to dive into because you really do have to go there and think through every aspect of it and live it. Maybe I'll rethink that over time, but there are definitely other things that, as a women's fiction writer, I'm fine with writing about, even though they can be painful too.
Why are you so stinking cute? Can I buy you a pony or something?
ReplyDelete