June 26, 2007 at 6:47 am Leave a comment

Christmas morning 1965. I run down the stairs in my pink full bodied pajamas, complete with plastic feet (ick– and I SLEPT in those awful things?). I go down those stairs, full of that Christmas joy, that wondering of what Santa left for me, and then I see IT up against the wall, away from the tree… this house, this house…and it takes my breath away. I sat in front of it, quiet, in awe, maybe as I do now as an adult when I see a particularily rich colored sunset or a startling artwork in a museum far away–that sense of need to experience deeply as the moment is fleeting. It had a red roof, and sets of everything, even red cushions for the family room set, mirrors for the walls, a lamp. It’s funny; I don’t remember any dolls for it. I sat there transfixed, not even thinking of touching anything. I even forget who told me that it actually belonged to me, and I remember someone telling me to open up other gifts. I just wanted to sit there and visually depart to within that cut away shape of that house.  As time went on, I personalized it with drawing in pencil on the outdoor lawn section, and installing mini animal posters over the doorways. Then lots more time passed, and things disappeared; I think the lamp went away pretty quickly. I went to college, new children showed up in my parent’s house, and then the furniture went off piece by piece. More time went away, the house went up in the rafters of the garage. I rescued it and used it to hold CDs and computer items.

June, 2007. My niece comes to see me. Perhaps she is a past culprit of the missing furniture. She decides that I need to go after dreams that she knows I’ve been talking about for at least as long as she has known me. She’s on a mission; her mother has to go after being an artist. Her aunt has to be a writer. So we take everything out of what I claimed was my creative workshop room (ugh, it’s been a place to dump things and leave quickly), we get rid of a desk, we painted amazing panels of paintings for one wall (I’ll write about THOSE later), and then, that dollhouse…we give it a place against the wall  across from my table, where I can see it. It’s empty of furniture, empty of anything. I look at the turqouise blue rooms, the fake rock wall paper, the personalized mini animal posters, the pencil drawings, and I still feel somewhat transfixed. I look hard, and I can remember me, that girl, that little girl who could depart so easily into a place of a fantasy imagining, a place to practice being in a moment but away at the same time.  I look at that house now, and I can almost SEE me there, and can almost smile at that little girl, so happy in the simplicity of moving furniture about over and over. How would she ever know what would come as the years progress? So I look at her, me, my spirit; I am stunned with the  spirit of my niece (my new Santa Claus) who gently and glowingly prods me to sit, transfixed, to move words about like the furniture of that house. She is the one who signed me up for this blog, this new medium of my adult musings, my virtual dollhouse. Welcome.


Entry filed under: Ruminations.

Bones Filbert Nut Cookies

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