I recently wrote an entry on my Facebook page about the glorious joys, pure sweetness and giggles God grants me daily. Usually, these highs come through all the little folks that are in my life. It seems just when I’m totally overwhelmed and ready to quit – they hit me with something so dag-nab-it sweet – my breath is restored.
I don’t know if you know this or not but I was very spoiled as
a child (perhaps some of you think this is still the case – and I will tell you
that I am spoiled and
I- L-I-K-E I-T
L-I-K-E T-H-A-T). I
had many toys and dolls (although I remember my mother breaking the “we’re
poor” news to me). The dolls were okay,
but in my mind, my Tamu® doll was way more than some ole toy. She was my friend.
Tamu® had a cute little afro, was a pretty chocolate brown and
had a pull string. Her voice box allowed
her to say, “Let’s play house, I love you, &Tamu means sweet.” She said some other stuff but those are the
phrases that have stuck with me over the years.
One year, shortly after beginning school, my cousins moved
back from California and my grandmother asked me if it would be okay for my
cousin to have a doll because they’d left their toys. I was horrified that a child would be without
toys and gave her Tamu®. Between you and
me, it took me a while to get over not having Tamu® but what can I say, I have
a generous heart.
Later that year, I received another Tamu® due to my kindness
(but as this story unfolds perhaps my grandmother heard me crying that
night). Tamu® #2 and I grew up and
somewhat apart (I still had her in the house but didn’t turn to her as much as
before) and at some point my mother annexed her to the hope chest (after
explaining that Tamu® had suffered some injuries at the hands of my cousins –
but she’d repaired her as much as possible and kept her for me).
Some years ago, my mother turned loose all of the dolls she’d
annexed to the hope chest. Tamu® was returned to me a little worn. One of the injuries she’d endured was the
loss of some fingers. I guess my cousins
wanted me to have that middle finger message for life! My mother was able to repair her hind parts
and even put a cute little gown on her and combed her hair. She still looked
sweet as ever to me!
She resided in my room and as life would have it– she got
pushed to the side again. Then one day I
woke up – tired of the clutter and got a couple of tubs and put some stuff in
it. Unfortunately, at the time, it
seemed right to place Tamu® in one of the tubs.
The tubs eventually ended up outside.
One year later, I woke early on a Saturday with the sole clear
question of, “where is Tamu®?” I looked
high and I looked low. I looked in,
under and around. Something led me to
the tubs and of course I found Tamu®, cold, wet and icky in a tub that somehow
had gotten water in it.
My dear friend was submerged in the water. And because I’m so smart and very well
educated…. I put her in the washer. Com’on
what could go wrong – her voice box didn’t work anymore anyway? You guessed it! She was in a million pieces. The only thing I could recognize was her head
and hands (yes even the hand with the offending gesture). WTHIRGO?
I’m a nut!
Needless to say, I was in crisis. I had a heart bo-bo so I called my mom (who
else would I call to fix my bo-bo). I
swear I heard a little giggle escape her and I had to really make a pitch to
get her to come and see what I’d done so she could “fix it.” Yes, I really had to hit her with the,
“Samuel said you can fix anything and he knows peoples power so come over
here.” She told me that Sam and I are
both crazy but she came over.
Upon arrival, we both looked into the washer (and again, I
heard a little giggle escape her – but her face was serious so I let it
go). I put the remains of my dear friend
(minus the head) into a mesh bag and placed it all in the dryer. I endured the inquisition about what I was
thinking when I put my doll that was made in 1969 (44 years old) in the washer
and the snide comments from my nieces (even Allie who had a chuckle when she
noticed a hand in the bag).
That evening, I told my “invitation to love” my sad, sad
story. He listened (with what looked
like a smirk on his face to me but by that time I was over sensitive to my loss)
and he graciously expressed sorrow for my loss.
Then that man got online and found me another Tamu®! Oh all right, I confess that I first declined
the offer from this lovely man because well….
He wouldn’t have even asked me about it but he felt he should
be sure he had the right doll as he didn’t want to add insult to injury by
getting me the wrong doll. And by the
end of the week, Tamu® #3 and I were united.
I combed her hair, bought her a new outfit and placed her on
the sofa in my room. I’ve pledged to her
to not allow her to get pushed to the side in my life again because when I knew
she no longer existed – I was truly very upset (almost moved to tears).
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| TAMU #3 |
