There’ll be sun, tomorrow

17 01 2010

I’ve been trying to be diligent and post my thoughts each day, even when not mentally motivated, as I really want to keep my brain processing, or perhaps more accurately, get it back into processing.  And thus, I sit today unable to think a thought worth sharing.  In fact the only thought that really comes to mind at all is thinking back on this little porcelain figurine with a wind up music box I had as a child.  The figurine was the typical Raggedy Ann image and the song was ‘Tomorrow’, from Annie not the Beatles.  And thinking of that takes me back to happier times in my childhood with my mother.

When I was little, my mother managed a gift store in the mall that specialized in Hummel and Lladró and other fine collectibles.  The one wall of the store was lined with porcelain dolls, four rows high and thirty feet long, the most beautiful dolls you can imagine.  My favourite was a larger doll was reddish gold spiral curls and a blue grey flowered dress and white coverlet.  She had a straw hat with velvet straps and she played Für Elise.  Oh, she was so beautiful.  And expensive.  She was over three hundred dollars!  All of the dolls were limited edition, with a handwritten number on their backs.  I would have given anything to have owned her.  But she was far too costly.  As items would chip or break or be damaged, they were moved to the discount shelf in the back of the store and marked down to move.  Once in a while my mom would ‘accidentally’ chip an item and mark it down by 95% and then apply her store discount to buy it for me.  That’s how I got the Raggedy Ann figurine.  And a few other porcelain dolls and jewelry boxes that I still own today.  But never the Für Elise doll.  I named her Elsa.

I had so much fun with my mom back then and thinking of that Raggedy Ann figurine reminds me of it.  I would get to build houses from cardboard shipping crates back in her stockroom.  They were quite elaborate and I was so enamored with the Little House on the Prairie series that my cardboard houses were typically covered wagons in Missouri or sod homes in Kansas or log cabins in Nebraska and I acted out each scene with fervor.  When she could, my mom would sneak back with me and crawl inside to play some assigned role for my production.  When I was in first grade my mom withdrew me from school early and we set out to go watch Gremlins in the theatre, but we couldn’t tell my father.  In our family we watched one movie a year at the theatre, always on my birthday.  Afterward she and I went off to the mall together to see the Christmas displays and taste test the Pepperidge Farm mints until they shooed us away.

I don’t really know when our relationship faltered to the point of mistrust, I suppose as I got older and less naïve about her relationships with other men and as she stopped protecting me from the actions of those men – I learned not to depend on her and to fend for myself.  But when I think back to that song, it brings me back to the happy moments with her, the good memories.

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