Baby Dolls and Bears

As a young girl of eight or nine I went to the downtown Marshall Fields store in Chicago. My mother had taken me there to help me spend the Christmas money my grandparents had sent. I was intent on finding a new doll with the large sum of money I had be granted. I remember picking out a Madame Alexander doll and pointing her out in the glass case before she was handed to me. She smelled good and everything about her was perfect. She wore a pink and blue gingham bonnet around her golden colored hair. Her dress and apron matched the ruffled blue bonnet. Her sparkling eyes opened and shut. Her small leather shoes tied up around tiny lace trimmed socks. She even made a small cry when you tipped her first face up and then face down. I named her Carrie Lynn. I loved her instantly. On the ride home I kept peeking into the large box. When we returned home, she was placed back in her box and wrapped in beautiful paper. Waiting to open the box on Christmas Eve seemed so painfully far away. In my agony, I chose to place her box at the foot of my bed each night to keep her close. Sometimes in the darkness,  I would tip the box to hear her soft cry from inside. Still today, I remember how much I loved that doll.

Today Carrie Lynn is somewhere in the storage of my home ... sadly forgotten with the passage of time.

Last week as I pressed my daughters to look through their boxes of memoirs Carly discovered a familiar box. The box that was decorated with once colorful construction paper brought a smile to her face. Written in a child's script on the top of the box was the name, SAMMY. Carly carefully lifted the lid off the box and pushed back the tissue paper. There peering out was a small, white stuffed bear. Sammy was her cherished teddy bear.  Sammy had been a gift from one of my friends to my new baby, Carly Michelle. Carly had literally slept with that bear from infancy. I remember my toddler Carly crying out for Sammy when he was forgotten at bedtime. On any vacation Sammy was packed in the suitcase along with all other necessities. She loved that bear like I loved my doll Carrie Lynn. When Carly was in fifth grade she had created this safe box to store him away. Now in anticipation, she lifted the bear out and checked him over. Looking down on her beloved friend she noticed he was not quite as white as she remembered. I told her we could put him in the washing machine. She seemed concerned that he could be torn in the agitation but I assured her that my new machine washed items with less vigor. She carefully considered and decided it would be ok to give Sammy a bath.

I noticed Carly doing all the common things to prepare a washing machine for the dirty load. In went the bear, the door shut and the button pushed to begin the cleaning process. But then I noticed something unusual. She pulled in a chair from the kitchen and placed it directly in front of the circular window that revealed the contents inside of the machine.

And there Carly sat.

Watching her bear get a bath and making sure he would remain intact.

Now washed and dried and a much brighter white I have spotted Sammy Bear out and around. I know he will eventually find his way back to the box, tucked away like my doll, Carrie Lynn in the packings of a home.

And while the memories fade and the toys are invisible in our daily lives, they are kept close and a available for us to revisit the feelings that were there as an innocent and believing child.