Once upon a time there was a little girl. She grew up very poor. She didn’t have new clothes, just hand-me-downs and clothes from the thrift store. She didn’t have fancy toys, just things that she found at garage sales, and she learned how to make dolls out of paper, yarn, and the most beautiful were out of flowers.
This little girl had a dollhouse that she had made with her dad. It wasn’t a fancy dollhouse, but it was better than the cardboard boxes she used to use. Some days when her dad would go to the pawn shop, he would take her along. The most beautiful store was right next door, and since she was a good little girl, she could stay in that store and wait for her dad.
The store was magic. It wasn’t a magic store, and no one said it was magic, but she knew it was. It was a miniature store. Fancy china, perfectly scaled furniture, beautiful paintings, even tiny silverware were held in little packages all along the walls, and big beautiful dollhouses were also on display. She could have spent all day there, just looking and imagining.
One of the things this child did have, was a knack for finding spare change. On the sidewalks, in coke machine change pockets, even under shelves and along the edges of things, she found pennies, nickels, sometimes even dimes and quarters. Once she even found a five dollar bill, which she took to the clerk, and they kindly let her keep. Her dad also usually had some change in his pocket that he would give to her, when her sisters talked her into asking him for it. They would then split the bounty.
The little girl saved her money and bought things from the miniature shop. One day, when she was looking she decided that she would save enough money to buy a family for her dollhouse. Real dolls. It was about $15.00, so it took her a while, but finally she had enough to get it. She treasured those dolls. There was a dad and a mom, a boy, a girl, and a baby. She took them everywhere.
Life went on, and time went by, and somehow she lost the baby. She knew soon after that she had lost it, so she looked everywhere. She looked in her room, in the attic, in the basement, outside, everywhere, but she couldn’t find it. She cried many times and if you added up the time she spent looking, it would have been weeks. She never found the doll, but she never forgot. Years went by, and finally the family was going to move. She would never be in that house again.
The search started again, even as the moving van pulled away from the house, she thought of the doll. She loved it. The dolls were her friends.
She would one day grow out of dolls, but she lost that one. Even though she grew up, she still wonders where it was, where it is now, and what happened to it. She still wishes she hadn’t lost it. Silly right? I guess that just because you lose something, doesn’t mean that you stop caring for it. Sometimes losing something makes you value it even more. That doesn’t mean you should spend the rest of your life looking for something that is gone, but maybe you should spend the rest of your life valuing the things you do have, before you lose them too.