My friend, Anna, always sends me
packages jammed full of treasures. Both of us are readers and we enjoy
giving one another books. A while ago she gave me a big book, called
"The Book of Virtues." It's a
hefty, hard-bound tome and indeed very reminiscent of my childhood.
Arranged in sections, it has poetry and prose in a great variety of subject
matter and stories that delight as well as instruct.
Leafing through its many pages I
happened upon a story by Hans Christian Andersen. Whether or not I'd read
it before I cannot say. Neither did I read it just then.
The title arrested me and swooped me
into such a long-lost moment of my childhood I'd completely forgotten, or
so it seemed until that second. I closed the book and let it rest on
my lap.
Doesn't
a moment like this deserve to be savored?
Suddenly I was in our living room
playing with my Thumbelina doll. She was lying on the couch. Not
just an ordinary couch was this. Its bench was a violet shade of
purple. The back cushions were big, rectangular and had lots of abstract
flowers. It didn't have legs or arms but consisted of two pieces that
formed the letter L.
Thumbelina
was on her back and I was standing over her. She's my baby. Am I
cooing adoringly, changing her clothes or feeding her? I only know she is
a tiny, helpless infant and I am a big girl.
How sweet that kind of playing
was! Lost in make believe and not a care about time or space - how
marvelous it was.
Was
it her size? So tiny she was. She allowed me to take care of her
and love her. Thumbelina needed me.
Now,
I realize I needed her.
Yvonne A. - March 2019
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