in this move a box of hidden things was discovered.

I used to collect dolls. Most of them fairies, all collectable and beautiful. Through all of the many moves with my mother they were the only things that were never left behind.

Fast forward to my late 20’s and I had a room full of dolls. My exhusband hates them, they creeped him out. We got engaged and at 29, I gave all of these dolls to my goddaughter, well except 3.

I had one that was from the 30’s handmade and not at all like the others. She was a nun in full habit. The next was one that was a russian queen and the third a tiny little farie. Unbeknownst to him I packed then with care into 3 different wine holders and stored them with other odds and ends. We moved into a house, then I moved, this tote staying in the back of my closet. 

Going through stuff one day, I found the nun, she went into a book case. Then at Christmas I found the queen, she joined the nun. When I came here, I found the last one stored with my favorite books and pictures of my grandparents. She went into a glass case.

Since the first separation my mother buys me a witch doll every year. Her way of being rebellious. They are not beautiful like the ones I had collected, but I guess it’s her way after hearing for years “no more dolls” of still holding onto that tradition.

A couple of weeks ago I wrapped up that little doll and sent her to a new home. She is just a small token of strength. A symbol, that something so pretty and delicate can survive. It felt good to give that small peice of me away. The other two will forever stay in the book case. 

Oh the nuns…. lol, that’s a story for another time, but they are back. I’ve been seeing them everywhere I go. Thank you Gracie, I know your watching.

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