Unfinished Object

When I was 7ish I received a box of Barbie dolls from an unknown cousin, who at 20, had outgrown them. Inside the box were three doll cases, you remember the sort, vinyl over cardboard with a metal clasp and a plastic handle. One case* held Barbie and her brunette friend Stacey, the other* Skipper and the third troll babies. Each was packed with clothes and shoes, little plastic hangers, and some small ceramic animals as well (pets for the dolls). The box also held a set of wicker furniture, slightly oversized for the dolls, not that I cared. They were given with the understanding that if she ever wanted them back, then back they would go. Young as I was I still questioned “why would you give anything to a seven year old, that you might want back”?

I imagine that unknown cousin, is somewhere kicking herself, because most of the clothes were the real deal, and are now worth (in some cases) more than the dolls. I kept them fairly nice. When it was time for me to pack them away because I had outgrown them, none had ‘wild woman’ hair, the dresses were still intact, but most of the little plastic shoes had been strewn across three states. They went, cases and all, into a large cardboard box, not unlike the one they came in, with my other dolls. There were in total, three such boxes. They moved with me, when I moved out and my parents moved to Ohio, and they lived in those boxes, until I bought my house. Their bulk consumed precious closet space, so I decided to reduce their numbers.

It was possibly the first time I had opened those boxes since they had been packed up. Sadly, that was a mistake. Many of the dolls were covered in strange mold that attacked vinyl. It look like a boxed leper colony. I called my cousin, whose daughter I had promised the dolls to, luckily she still wanted them and was game to try to clean them. The Barbies were unaffected, and they went to the older child of one of my uncles. None of them went with the ‘if I want them back’ stipulation.

D and I, as you know, are about to go on vacation. When I am preparing for such a trip I become all about loose ends, and the more of them I can tie up the happier I am. These ends do not always pertain to my trip, often they are things long gone undone whose time has come (or is long past). This time one of the loose ends involves another collection ... the collection that came hard on the heels of boxing up the dolls. Unicorns.

It started with one from my mom, Uni (yes, I named them all), who was broken by my evil little brother and a baseball intended for my head. I was not selective about the collection, if it had a horn, and looked like a horse I had to have it, and it was not many years before the collection numbered near a hundred. I did get older, and wiser and while the numbers still increased well into my 20’s the pace slowed substantially and I became more discerning in my tastes.

When I moved to Florida, the unicorn collection traveled in a box alongside the dolls. But, unlike the dolls, each one was carefully unpacked, and installed in a wall hanging display I purchased especially for that purpose. Like the dolls, however, they were equally forgotten. Even when I purchased the house they were dutifully displayed in the spare bedroom, the room that has been D’s office for nearly eight years now. And if you think he’s ever dusted them (or that room) ... we need to talk about some beachfront property.

I culled them pretty severely with a garage sale, though I was ill at the thought of what I’d spent versus what I’d received. Most of the ones that survived that cull were either special because of who gave them to me, or simply because they were unusual. Today they number around twenty, and still include the poor, glued together, Uni. Over the weekend I took them down and cleaned the inches of dust and cat hair from them, all the while chuckling at myself because as I picked each up their names leapt into my head. Uni, Aurol, Dar, Elf, Little Traveler, Chat Noir, Coral, Sydney, Oscar, Clay, Amber, Jade ... and on. Each one I carefully wrapped in bubble wrap, and tucked back into the case. I will put the whole thing in a cardboard box as soon as I find one large enough… but they are not headed for storage. Instead I am sending it to a girl who is somewhat older than I was when I received the box of dolls.

Her mother has kindly agreed to increase her clutter with mine. Part of me is sad to see them go, and part of me knows that once they’re gone I will forget them again. Still another part is bustin’ happy to know that they are going somewhere they will be loved, possibly even more than I did...and no, there is no stipulation to return them. When I enjoyed them most I believed each had a specific personality, and I suppose that means I believed they were, in a way, real. The seven year old in me still does, and knows that they will be happier somewhere less dusty.

Dear Hannah,
I hope you enjoy these as much as I did. One day you will be too grown for such things but still find them hard to let go, and that’s ok. You will always have things that you dust off from time to time simply to look at before returning them to their box. I, in fact, kept three of the unicorns ... I just couldn’t let go, even to someone as sweet as you (your mom is rolling her eyes - heh).

I’m going to ask a favor in return. Pay it forward. I do not mean to give them away one day, rather, remember what it was like to open that big brown box and know that its contents were all yours and sent by someone you may never meet. I still do, and it is in that spirit that I turn their care over to you. When you have the opportunity to brighten someone’s day, even if its just for a moment, take it. Believe me when I say the feeling is even better than opening that big brown box.
All my best,
Jade

* These are, in fact, the exact cases - which tickles me to no end, hehe.

Posted by Shan on 07/18 at 03:12 PM
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