Once upon a time when I was just a little bit of a girl I had a doll. It was a beautiful doll with mass of hair. I loved the doll very much.
The doll was not as beautiful to my mother. It was old and ragged. It’s hair was tangled into a twisted pile.
And one day my mother threw my doll away.
I’m sure she had no idea how much I loved the doll or she never would have done it. I missed my doll terribly. And eventually not so very long after that we got a new doll.
I don’t remember the exact circumstances when Margaret came into my life. I was too young to remember unimportant details. All that matters is that she came and that she was beautiful. She was tiny, but not too tiny. She had a soft body smooth dark skin. She wore an adorable little frilly dress with pink trim.
And she was Margaret.
In our little girl minds, Margaret was a beautiful name. All of our other dolls had names that changed with the seasons or sometimes even with the days but not Margaret. Margaret was always Margaret.
We’ve kept her all these years. My sister’s played with her. Her name never changed. The day came when Margaret was relocated to a storage room. She must be kept safe.
And somehow at some point in this journey, sharon came up with this strange idea that Margaret would somehow be hers.
It’s a preposterous idea. Of course Margaret is mine. I’m quite sure I got her before sharon was even born. There’s no way that Margaret is hers!
But sharon is more sneaky than I am and one day I realized that Margaret is in a box under her bed. I made it clear at that point that Margaret is definitely mine and she must straightaway relinquish all rights. She was not obliging.
Yesterday I was having one of those days with too much to do so in between teaching school and planning and hosting an honor roll party for my students, I made a wild dash through our house to find some things I’d forgotten. I found Sharon busily packing her things into tubs.
And there, in one tub, lying nicely on top, was Margaret.
I picked her up and made a dash for the stairs. Unfortunately sharon was coming up as I went down and a fight ensued.
A literal physical fight. There was some hitting and yelling involved. And since I was in a tearing hurry and since sharon hits harder than I do and since I was afraid Margaret would tear, I ended up leaving without Margaret.
But as I went out the door I yelled, “I WILL GET HER SOMEDAY BY FORCE OR BY FRAUD!
And I will, folks. The fight is on. This has become war.
So I’m just throwing this out there for all my friends and relatives. You’ll have to choose sides. But since I’m on the side of the right you should probably choose mine. If your ever in Sharon’s house and see a small doll in a strange hiding place, please return her to me.
And if you see me leaving Sharon’s house with strange lumps under my sweater or in my purse, please don’t ask any questions.